


Death in the Garden

by Poetry



Series: Fem!Doctor [6]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Immortality, Multi, Oral Sex, Plotty, Polyamory, South Africa, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetry/pseuds/Poetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A week after his regeneration, the Doctor takes Jack and Rose to a party. But he's been keeping secrets from them, and the truth will soon catch up to them in the worst way the Doctor could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Storm Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Set in my fem!Doctor series, but all you need to know is that the Doctor, Jack and Rose are in an established relationship and that Jack is immortal but doesn't know it yet. This story will update on a weekly basis. Many thanks to yamx for the beta.

"Sequins are all the rage in the 24th century," Jack assured Rose, adding the last sequin to the line of her jaw. She still thought she looked like a circus performer, but she did want to look trendy at the party the Doctor was taking them to see. Jack, of course, looked resplendent in his black sequin catsuit, whorls of rainbow glitter along his cheekbones.

"Why can't you make the Doctor wear sequins?" Rose grumbled.

The Doctor popped out from behind a rack of coats. "I have got sequins on. See?" He pointed at his tie, which was brown with swirls of blue sequins.

"Put some on his eyebrows," Rose told Jack.

Jack picked up a pot of blue sequins in his left hand and an applicator of adhesive in his right, then pounced. The Doctor ducked behind the rack of coats with Jack in hot pursuit. Jack tackled him to the ground, sending the pot of sequins flying from his hand to scatter like tiny sapphires across the wardrobe room floor. They tussled on the ground a little, and when they got to their feet the Doctor's spiky hair was full of sequins.

"Mission accomplished," said Jack, a thousand-watt grin on his face.

Rose would have added a quip of her own, but she was laughing too hard to speak.

"Are we going to this party, or are we just going to stand here throwing glitter at each other?" said the Doctor, trying to look dignified despite his sparkly hair.

"I'm ready if you are," Jack said, and they all set off for the console room.

This Doctor piloted the TARDIS differently from their first one. He liked to use a mallet on the console a lot, which made Rose flinch the first few times. He dashed back and forth around the console so quickly it was a wonder he didn't get dizzy.

"Here we are!" the Doctor declared. "The Stormgarden, 24th century, South Africa, Earth."

"The Stormgarden? Why's it called that?" asked Rose.

"This area is known for having the most beautiful thunderstorms in the world. In the 24th century, they use predictive barometrics to tell when a big storm's about to come, and throw a party at the Stormgarden."

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS door, and Rose was barely a step behind him. High above, sapphire blue stormclouds gathered in a pale grey sky, haloed in gold by the setting sun. The thunderheads seemed to refract the fading light in strange ways, painting bright slashes of orange and blue through the grey. Huge, twisted trees on the surrounding hilltops cast dramatic silhouettes against the horizon.

The TARDIS had landed in a rock garden, sort of like the ones they'd seen that time they went to Japan. The Stormgarden wasn't all rocks, though - far from it. The garden was vast, and seemed different in every direction Rose looked.

"It's meant to be a showcase of all the plant life in this part of Africa," said the Doctor. "They've got plants that went extinct in the wild over a century back."

Rose's gaze followed a path that contoured itself to the rocks in this part of the garden, leading on to another garden full of plants that looked like brush strokes come to life, punctuated here and there with long white flowers hanging low to the ground. Beyond was an avenue of stately trees that led to some sort of pavilion. Distantly, Rose could see colorful flags out on the pavilion.

"Come on, then," said the Doctor cheerfully. "The party's out past the marula trees." He held out his arms and wiggled his fingers invitingly. Rose took his left arm, Jack his right, and they strolled along the path toward the avenue of marula trees. Above them, curtains of dark gold seemed to waver across the sky as the sun sank and the clouds were chivvied along by a wind they couldn't feel. When Rose asked how the air could be so still when the clouds were clearly moving, the Doctor launched into a long-winded explanation about the force fields surrounding the Stormgarden, until Rose changed the subject by pointing out a lovely red flower among the brush-stroke plants.

Among the marula trees, they encountered other groups of people strolling by. There was a mother with two teenage daughters, looking exasperated as the girls winked and flirted at everyone who passed by. Two women chatted as they inhaled steam curling from little cups in their hands. Sequins glittered at the corners of their eyes and mouths. One of them had lavender eyes, silver teeth, and blue-white hair, pale against her dark skin.

"Is she an alien?" Rose whispered to the Doctor, looking at her.

"No. Body modifications are as common now as piercings or tattoos in your century. Not many aliens on Earth right now, and those are mostly on diplomatic missions from their home planets."

Jack winked back at one of the teenagers. Then his expression dampened at the sight of three women walking in the opposite direction along the avenue of marulas. Two of them were holding hands and laughing. The third stood slightly apart, watching them, the smile on her face tinged with wistfulness. Her hand kept moving to within an inch of the hand of the woman to her right, then withdrawing. Rose saw the tableau and grimaced a little, reminded of how Jack had felt when he'd first joined them. The Doctor squeezed Jack's arm and looked at him. Rose couldn't see his expression, but she could imagine it.

Ahead of them, banners of many colors stood over stalls and tables. People glittering in sequined clothing of all colors circled among the stalls. A boy with a drum almost as tall as he was started a tentative beat, then played louder and steadier as a woman in a sequined sarong murmured encouragements to him. Fragrant steam drifted toward them from one of the stalls.

"The banners show which academy's hosting the stall," the Doctor explained as they drew nearer. "Lots of competition between academies right now in Southern Africa. They compete for students, for visitors to their museums and cultural events. They've set up stalls giving away food, drink, clothing, musical instruments…" He smiled at the boy with his drum, then caught sight of a red banner slashed with yellow and gold. Beneath it, children gathered around a table that shook as little robots danced on its surface, while a kindly old man showed them how to put together their own. Rose saw the faces of her men light up at the sight. They approached, Jack watching the robots with an appraising eye, while the Doctor milled through the crowd of children and complimented their creations, helping them put parts together properly if needed.

As Rose watched, she felt gooseflesh rise on her arms. The force field might be blocking out the wind, but the air was still getting colder as the storm came in. She ambled off in search of a stall giving out clothes that might keep her warmer. At one stall, she got a cup of rooibos tea, which didn’t taste much like proper tea at all, but the warm sweetness of it helped keep back the chill. Teacup in hand, she walked to the far end of the pavilion, which didn’t end abruptly so much as it dispersed from an expanse of paved ground into a network of paths winding around trees and hedges.

It was along this edge-that-wasn't that Rose found a stall adorned with a green and brown banner that gave away scarves in a rainbow of patterns. Rose found a long, thick scarf that was pink with rainbow stripes. She wound the scarf around herself so that it covered her arms and looked beyond the stall, to where one of the paths wound about a tree with a trunk so broad compared to its height that it looked like a cartoon, then beyond it, to a statue half-hidden from view by the tree's trunk, then out toward a stream curtained by sedges and reeds. She looked back to the lady at the stall and thanked her, then back to the garden beyond, overhung by the stormy sky.

Rose frowned. The statue she had half-glimpsed behind the tree was gone.

She followed the path toward the impossibly broad tree, her cup of rooibos tea still warm in her hand. She passed the spot where she could have sworn the statue had been the last time she'd looked –

The last thing she knew of the garden was the slip of her teacup through her fingertips as it began to fall.

* * *

Jack and the Doctor moved on from the robots, exploring the rest of the stands, keeping an eye out for Rose as they went. At first, Jack hadn't been worried at all. The pavilion was a big, busy place, making it all too easy to lose someone in the crowd. But now he was getting tense.

“I can’t get a reading on her biosignature,” Jack growled, keying the command into his wrist strap for the third time.

“Doesn’t mean she’s gone,” said the Doctor. “All kinds of temporal fluxes can interfere with the reading if you're scanning for a time traveler.”

Jack gave him a look. “This is a Time Agency wrist strap, Doctor. It corrects for artron energy.”

“Rose is still ali –” The Doctor started, then steadied himself with a breath. “Rose could still be here. Kidnapping for ransom happens all the time in 24th century South Africa. The kidnappers could have biodamped her. We'll pay whatever ransom they ask for.”

Jack kept the comm channels on his wrist strap open for any ransom demands, and he and the Doctor started looking for Rose the old-fashioned way: going around and asking people if they'd seen her.

"I haven't seen a girl who looks like that," said the tall white man at the stall serving out bowls of hot potjie, a kind of stew he had bubbling in a cauldron over a wood fire. "But I'd watch out, if I were you. My wife is on security detail for this event, and she says there's been a report of someone gone missing."

"Who's gone missing? When?" the Doctor demanded.

"A man reported that his daughter was gone. He was taking her around, trying to help her decide which academy to attend. He hasn't seen her for a few hours now. My wife, she doesn't know what's happened yet, but you ought to tell her about your girl. She's at the southeast corner of the pavilion, near the marula boulevard. You'll know her when you see her."

"Thank you, sir," said Jack. The Doctor was already racing through the crowd as if it were made of water instead of people. Jack caught up quickly; he'd been trained in how to move through a crowd without stepping on anyone's toes.

"Don't wander off," he could hear the Doctor saying, almost to himself. "Is there ever any use telling her not to wander off?"

Jack wanted to tell him that Rose was probably fine, that his wrist strap couldn't find her biosignature by some random fluke, that maybe she'd just seen some pretty flowerbed out in the garden and left the pavilion to have a better look. But with a report of someone else missing, Jack didn't think there was any use pretending.

In the corner of the pavilion, in the shade of a marula tree, there stood a woman in a dark green uniform. There were stripes on the shoulder that Jack couldn't precisely interpret, but took to mean that she was the ranking officer of the security detail. She was only a little shorter than Jack, and just as broad. She had dark skin and close-cropped black hair, barely visible beneath her green cap. When she saw the Doctor and Jack approaching her, she said, "Anything I can do to help you two gentlemen?" Her accent was slightly different from her husband's, her words more lilting.

"Our partner, Rose," said the Doctor. "She's gone missing. Your husband said she's not the first."

The woman's face set in a scowl, and she swore in a different language from the English they were speaking, which of course Jack understood all the same, thanks to the TARDIS' translation. "The third, now," she said. She turned inward, toward the pavilion, and called out, "Ndlovu!"

A man not much older than Rose appeared from the crowd. He, too, was clad in a dark green uniform. "Yes, Sarge?"

"Anything to report?"

Ndlovu shook his head. "The team's got through sectors two through four of the garden. Still no sign."

"Add a third to the list. Name’s Rose. Physical description?" said the sergeant, looking at Jack and the Doctor. Ndlovu pressed a thin band along the shell of his ear and tilted his head toward them.

"Twenty years old, about yea high," said Jack, holding his hand just below his chin, "pale skin, bleach blonde hair, wearing a brown sequin dress."

Ndlovu nodded and pressed the device on his ear again. “The search team copies. They’re in sector five right now.”

“Thank you.” Jack let his face relax into a smile, and he extended a hand to the sergeant. “Captain Jack Harkness. My partner is the Doctor.”

“Sergeant Mashudu Pietersen,” she said, accepting the handshake.

“Or you could call her Sarge,” said Ndlovu, smiling mischievously.

“If you’re a cheeky bugger like Officer Ndlovu here, then yes, you could call me Sarge,” she said, her eyes sparkling in her serious face.

“Cheeky bugger, that’s me,” said the Doctor with relish. He flipped open Jack’s wrist computer with his other hand. “How can we reach you if we need you, Sarge?”

The sergeant raised her eyebrows, but recited the contact code for her ear-comm. The Doctor programmed it into Jack’s wrist strap.

“I can handle my own wrist strap, dad,” Jack teased, but he didn’t really mind. He liked that the Doctor was comfortable with such casual contact, which hadn’t always been true. Besides, Jack had needed the comfort, then, even if he’d never have admitted it aloud to the Doctor.

“Come along, Captain!” called the Doctor, already melting back into the crowd. “Let’s find out who saw Rose last!”

Jack managed to convince the Doctor to go systematically this time, the Doctor starting from the eastern edge of the pavilion and Jack from the west. They would ask after Rose at every stall until they met in the middle. Hopefully, they'd be done before dark.

Along the way, Jack ran into Officer Ndlovu again, his uniform conspicuously dull among all the sequined partygoers. “Any news?” he asked.

“An officer in the search party went missing,” Ndlovu said grimly. “She went into an alcove sheltered all around by mopane trees. She never came back out. No sign of your Rose either.”

 _Your Rose._ That made the corner of Jack’s mouth turn up. He was more of her Jack than the other way around. He hadn’t expected the security team to find Rose, not with her biosignature missing, but he appreciated their efforts. He nodded. “Thanks, sir. And sorry about the officer you lost.”

“Uh, I’ll keep you posted,” Ndlovu said. The young officer was ogling Jack’s figure beneath his black catsuit and trying not to be obvious about it. Jack couldn’t resist putting a little sway into his hips as he walked away.

Jack made his way along the far end of the pavilion, across from the avenue of marula trees, where it broke up into many winding paths. Beyond, in the sun's fading light, he could see dunes covered in low-lying vegetation. It reminded him of plants from the Boeshane, though they weren’t as bristly and blue. When he came to the middle of the far edge, he spotted the Doctor’s flyaway mop above the heads of the crowd. He had only three booths left to make his inquiries, but he waited until the Doctor came within earshot of him before he asked the lady behind the stall, “Can you spare a moment? I’m looking for my partner, Rose. We came together to the party and I haven’t seen her for hours.”

“What’s she look like, love?” said the lady, leaning toward him with her elbows propped up on her counter.

“She’s young, twenty years old, with bleach blonde hair down to her shoulders. She’s wearing a brown sequin dress. It matches her eyes.”

“Oh yes, I saw a girl like that. She took a pink scarf, very nice Venda cloth. My wife teaches crafts at the Reformed Academy of Thohoyandou. She made it.”

“When did you see her?”

“It was four o’clock or so, by my watch. The party was only just getting started, then. She put on the scarf, and then she looked out past my stall at the garden. I think she saw something that caught her eye, because then she said thank you and walked out toward the baobab tree, this curious sort of look on her face. Might be she just wandered off into the garden, love.”

“Thank you, ma’am. You’re a big help.”

The Doctor caught up with Jack as he made for the edge of the pavilion, where it dispersed into hedge-lined paths. "Any news?" asked Jack.

"She stopped for tea along the way. Rooibos in a little green teacup." He looked out to where a hedge path crooked around a tree as broad as their shared bedroom in the TARDIS, and started toward it.

"That's a baobab tree?"

"I can give you a fascinating botanical lecture about it later, Jack, come on!"

Jack followed the Doctor down the path, just wide enough for them to walk abreast, and toward the baobab tree. It was vast, dark, its bark smooth and hard like an insect's carapace.

And there, on the pavestones beside the tree, was a shattered green teacup.

* * *

The air was warm and close, and the plants were wild all around her.

Rose stumbled in surprise, only to find her sequin dress immediately ensnared by thorns. Short, curved thorns hooked into her calves, and thorns the length of her thumb dug furrows along her arms. She yelped in surprise and pain and leapt back, tearing her dress and her skin.

 _Where am I?_ Rose looked up to see a cloudy sky, undistorted by the Stormgarden's force field. She was standing in grass as high as her waist, interspersed with trees and shrubs bristling with thorns. The air was warm enough that she was sweating under her scarf. Her dress was little more than bloody tatters now, the sequins pulled loose by the thorns and glittering on every plant around her.

It looked like a nature documentary she saw in school once. She was in the savanna, with elephants and rhinos and all the rest. It wasn't anything like _The Lion King_. She couldn't see more than twenty or thirty feet in any direction. There could be a leopard within leaping distance and she'd never see it. Besides, _The Lion King_ didn't show you that every tree was covered in thorns longer than most animals' claws.

For a moment she panicked. She had no idea what to do if a dangerous animal appeared, and not a clue how far she was from the Doctor and Jack. How had she ended up here in the first place? But there was no reason to worry, of course. She could call the Doctor and Jack for help. Rose reached into her bra, pulled out her superphone, and called Jack's wrist strap.

He answered after one ring. “Rose? Where are you? Are you OK?”

"Haven't the foggiest. Just a second ago I was in the garden, and now I'm on a savanna and it's warm and there are thorns _everywhere_. And lions and things, probably."

The Doctor's voice replaced Jack's. "Rose, what did you see in the garden before you disappeared?"

"I didn't disappear. I'm just not in the Stormgarden anymore."

"Please, just tell me."

"I saw a statue just past that giant tree, then suddenly it was gone. I wanted to see what was going on. Next thing I know, I'm being scratched up by the biggest bloody thorns I've ever seen."

“Can you tell me anything more?”

“It's hot. There's tall grass, and – oh, there's a marula tree, like the ones you pointed out in the garden. It's got fruit under it.”

“It's winter, there are no fruits on the marula trees. You've gone back in time.”

“How do you know she's gone back in time? She could have gone forward,” Jack pointed out. “And why did it take us hours to get her phone call?”

“Temporal displacement, a mysteriously disappearing statue, and a distortion of Rose's timeline bad enough to throw off the superphone's lock-in keeping her timeline in sync with anyone she calls,” the Doctor said. “It adds up to only one thing. Weeping Angel.”

“The Lonely Assassins?” said Jack. “I thought they were a myth.”

“Just like Time Lords are a myth, yeah?”

“Boys!” said Rose. “Are either of you gonna tell me what's going on?”

“You've been sent back in time by a Weeping Angel,” said the Doctor. “Fed off the potential energy of your timeline. When you look at them, they're statues. When you look away, even for a moment, if you so much as _blink_ , they're swift and they're deadly. Now listen carefully, Rose. Don't step on any holes in the ground. There might be snakes in them. Don't drink any water. Don't go anywhere near a river or a hippo might decide to attack you. If you're thirsty, break off a stalk of grass near the root and chew it. If you see a buffalo or a rhino, climb up a tree. Don't run away from a lion or a leopard; keep eye contact, make yourself big, and back away slowly.”

“Now, Rose, I need to you to check something for me. Have you still got your TARDIS key?”

“Of course I have,” said Rose automatically, but now that she thought about it, she hadn't felt the key in her bra when she'd taken out her mobile. She checked. “Oi!” she yelped into the mobile. “That bloody Angel took the key out of my _bra_!”

Silence reigned at the other end of the line, and Rose realized what had just happened. The Weeping Angel that had sent her back in time now had access to the TARDIS. And here she was, kicking up a fuss because it had reached inside her bra. They wouldn't be stranded without the TARDIS – there was always Jack's wrist strap – but the time ship was a sentient being in her own right, and one they all loved dearly. She could be in terrible danger.

“They'll be coming after the TARDIS any moment now, if they haven't already,” said the Doctor, his voice flat with barely contained worry. “Jack and I have got to go and stop them. We'll get to you as soon as we can. Until then – we believe in you.”

Then the call ended, leaving Rose alone in the savanna, gripping the phone like a talisman in her hand.

 _You can do this,_ she told herself as she tucked her mobile back in her bra. _They believe in you, but they're not here to help you. Not yet. So how can you help yourself?_

Well, first thing would be to take off her scarf. She'd keep it, though. There could be people out here somewhere, and until the Doctor and Jack showed up, she might as well try and find out if there was anyone else. It'd be pointless to wander off, especially with dangerous animals about, but she could climb a tree and have a look around. Maybe she was in a national park, and a ranger would see her colorful scarf atop the tree. It was a slim chance, but it was worth a try.

Rose looked around for a tree without thorns, which was a harder task than it ought to have been. She found one that looked innocent enough, until she put her weight on a branch. It exploded with ants that swarmed over her skin and stung her until she cried out in pain and nearly fell out of the tree on her arse. She scrambled back down and watched red welts spring up on her ankles and calves.

“If I ever watch _The Lion King_ again,” she muttered to herself, “I'm going to laugh myself sick.”

After that, she decided to try the marula tree she'd seen earlier. It would be hard to climb since the bark was so smooth, but anything was better than thorns and ants. The tree looked young, with boughs low enough to the ground to give Rose a chance at getting a leg up. She gave herself as much of a running leap as she could, seized a branch, and hoisted herself onto it. Gymnastics to the rescue again.

Rose climbed as far up the tree as she dared; the uppermost branches might not be strong enough to hold her weight, and she didn't want to risk breaking her neck just to get a better view. The fruits hanging from the branches were tempting, too, but the Doctor hadn't mentioned whether they were good for humans to eat, and she wouldn't risk that either.

From her perch in the marula tree, Rose looked around. Most of the trees were short, so she could see all the little hills and dips in the landscape. There was no sign of human activity anywhere.

 _But hang on a minute,_ she thought. _That's an elephant. And it's coming toward me._

The elephant was huge. She'd seen one in a zoo before, but it was nothing like this. It was like a hill had decided to get up and go for a walk. It fanned its ears as it walked and twitched its trunk from side to side. If it were human, Rose would have said it looked restless. As it was, she wasn't sure if elephants got restless.

Oh God, it was coming nearer. She could smell it now. It was an awful stench, much worse than anything at a zoo. She wondered if she ought to get down from the tree and run. The Doctor had told her to climb a tree if there was a buffalo or a rhino, but he hadn't said what to do about an elephant. _If it really wanted to chase me,_ she considered, _I bet it could outrun me. It's walking fast, and its steps are a lot longer than mine. Better stay in the tree and hope it leaves me alone._

The elephant stopped beneath the tree. Rose could see streaks of brownish fluid down its cheeks, near the corners of its mouth. Was it sick? Could elephants be rabid or something? It didn't seem to notice her, fortunately, as it started picking marulas off the ground with its trunk and eating them. It walked a circle around the tree, eating every marula in sight until none were left.

That was when the elephant wrapped its trunk around the marula tree and _shook_.

Rose cried out as the branches above her broke and fell. One hit her on the head, and she saw stars. Marulas were falling all around her, bouncing off her arms, her head, and her bloodied, tattered dress. The bough Rose was perched on creaked and groaned and snapped.

Unlike the Doctor, Jack believed in always being prepared. He'd taught Rose how to fall so as to distribute the impact over her body. Still, the wind was knocked out of her, her vision swam, and there were a hundred bursts of pain as thorns pierced her skin and tore at her hair.

When the fog cleared from Rose's senses, and she struggled to her knees through the pain, the elephant was staring at her, its ears tucked back against its skull. Its trunk was tucked under its head, its tusks aimed squarely forward.

And it charged.

* * *

The last red smear of sunlight had faded from the west, and a thick layer of storm clouds blotted out the moon and stars. It might have been raining, though beneath the force field they wouldn't know either way. At any other time, Jack would have found a twilight storm in a botanical garden exciting. But he remembered the stories old Time Agents used to tell when the night grew long and the tales of laughter and triumph and the Agency victorious grew stale. Those stories had always seemed more real to him, and now the Doctor had confirmed that the ones about the Lonely Assassins were true – well, there was no shame in being afraid of the dark, now.

As if reading his thoughts, the Doctor reached for Jack's hand and squeezed it. “I can see better in the dark than you can. Stay close to me.”

The Doctor was the only real protection Jack had. He'd just called Sarge for backup, at the Doctor's request, but more of her own were missing, and they couldn't be sure when help would arrive. They didn't let go of each other until they'd stepped back into the warm spill of torchlight from the pavilion.

“Give me your key,” said the Doctor, extending the hand with which he'd just held Jack's.

“My TARDIS key? Why?” Jack pressed his hand to his chest, instinctively, where his TARDIS key hung beneath his shirt on a chain.

“The Weeping Angels will try to take it from you,” said the Doctor.

“Why? They've already got Rose's key.”

“They don't know the TARDIS is the only one of her kind in the universe. They may not even properly know what she is. What they do know is that she's a nearly endless source of artron energy, and they'll kill you for your key if they think there's any chance there's another ship like her. Please, Jack, give me your key. I'll make sure both of ours are safe.”

Jack hadn't gone without his key for more than a handful of minutes at a time since he'd received it. The first time the three of them had slept together, he'd almost taken it off, but the Doctor had seized the chain in a fist and growled in a husky Northern accent: keep it on. Sometimes he kept it in his pocket instead of around his neck, but he didn't like to part with it.

He tugged the key free of his shirt, slipped the chain over his head, and pressed it into the Doctor's palm, so it imprinted into his skin. He looked into the Doctor's eyes for reassurance, and found it there, a silent promise: _I will let you back in, key or no key._

The Doctor disappeared behind a booth for a few moments and emerged with a lantern. He crossed the pavilion toward the marula boulevard, winding through the crowd like a snake through grass. Jack followed the light from his lantern, red with veins of gold. The boulevard lined with marulas was lit, but the path beyond to the TARDIS was swallowed up in darkness.

The Doctor paused at the end of the marula boulevard so Jack could catch up. There was a rumble like an earthquake as lightning flooded the sky, revealing the TARDIS – and beyond her, just barely visible, a statue of an angel, its face bent to its hands as if in tears. Then the lightning faded from the sky, leaving only afterimages and the red-gold circle of light from the Doctor's lantern. Jack took the Doctor's free hand.

They ran.

The Doctor's head darted in every direction, like a bird's, trying to pin an Angel down with his gaze. Jack kept his focus on the TARDIS. The thought of those stone hands on her, trying to take her away, was too awful to bear. If his eyes were a weapon against the Lonely Assassins, then he would use them in her defense.

The Doctor's lantern jostled and swayed as he ran, casting juddering shadows from the twisting stems of plants. His eyes seemed to be everywhere at once, but Jack knew they couldn't be. There was always some place neither of them were looking, some shadow –

Suddenly, Jack felt something cold and tight around his neck, and let out a choked yelp. The Doctor wheeled around. At his back, Jack could feel the contours of a stone torso, and the weight of impossibly heavy arms holding him still. Stone hands were fastened around his throat, poised to twist and snap.

The Doctor held his lantern high and stared. The moment he looked away, Jack would die. He'd felt that way before, but this time, it was true.

"You can't stay." The stone arms were so tight around his ribcage he could barely draw breath to form the words. “The TARDIS needs you. Rose needs you.” He stopped to wheeze for air.

“I can't leave you,” the Doctor said. “Not when I almost – ” He stopped before saying any more.

"It's all right, Doctor. I love you too damn much not to forgive you.” He swallowed tears, then choked down another breath. “Go. Tell Rose I love her.”

The look in the Doctor's eyes – dark, infinite, still – pinned him more helplessly than the Angel. More than anything, he wanted to reach out for the Doctor, pull him in for one last kiss, but nothing in the world would allow him to move.

The Doctor reached out to cradle Jack's cheek. He kissed Jack, chastely, on the mouth. "I'm so sorry, Jack, for what's about to happen," he said, "and for what will come after." His eyelids didn't even flutter.

Terror threatened to overwhelm Jack. He stared at the Doctor, silently pleading. _What will come after? he didn't dare to say. _You can't tell me this now! If there's something that comes after – if there's anything that means something beyond this world and what we do here, if death isn't the end, then what does it all –__

The Doctor looked away, and his world ended with a sickening _crunch_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those curious about the references to the wildlife and culture of South Africa, here are some explanations, in the order that the references appear.
> 
>   
> 
>   * The “brush-stroke plants” Rose describes are fynbos, a flora unique to South Africa's Cape Floristic Region and perhaps the greatest cornucopia of plant diversity on Earth. The red flower Rose notices is a [King Protea](http://v1.cache3.c.bigcache.googleapis.com/static.panoramio.com/photos/original/7980474.jpg).  
> 
>   
> 
>   * Marulas are fruit trees native to the African savanna. They produce a [fruit](http://blogs.worldwatch.org/nourishingtheplanet/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Marula.bmp?9d7bd4) the size and color of an apricot, but with a thick peel. They're fibrous, tart, and sweet, and feature in South African desserts and liqueurs. Elephants love them.  
> 
>   
> 
>   * Rooibos is not a true tea, but an infusion made from the rooibos bush. It's a sweet, earthy, caffeine-free, traditional drink.  
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>   
> 
>   * The “impossibly broad tree” where Rose sees the statue is a [baobab](https://honors.rit.edu/amitraywiki/images/d/d6/Baobab_real.jpg). Baobabs can live to be over a thousand years old and as broad as a mansion.  
> 
>   
> 
>   * Potjie is a traditional Afrikaner stew made with antelope meat. Afrikaners are the descendants of the Dutch colonizers who first settled in the Cape, displacing and enslaving the Khoi-khoi and the !Kung people who lived there.  
> 
>   
> 
>   * To hear the sergeant's accent, click [here](http://web.ku.edu/~idea/africa/southafrica/southafrica8.mp3). To hear her husband's accent, click [here](http://web.ku.edu/~idea/africa/southafrica/southafrica19.mp3).  
> 
>   
> 
>   * Mashudu is a Venda first name, Pietersen an Afrikaner surname, and Ndlovu a Shangaan surname. Venda and Shangaan are languages spoken in the north of South Africa, where this story is set.  
> 
>   
> 
>   * The plants Jack sees on the sand dunes that remind him of home are ice plants.  
> 
>   
> 
>   * The Venda people make brightly-colored [traditional cloth](http://ndr.org.za/static/gallery/image/2010/oct/dressed_in_traidional_gear.gif) used for ceremonial occasions. Thohoyandou is the largest city where Venda is predominantly spoken.  
> 
>   
> 
>   * You know that scene in The Lion King when Simba flees after Mufasa's death and the hyenas try to chase him and get stuck all over with thorns? Most of the savanna is like that.  
> 
>   
> 
>   * The advice the Doctor gives Rose is real advice that park rangers give you before you go walking through the savanna.
>   
> 



	2. Lazarus and the Wolf

_Entropy creeps in. The engines of life, working ceaselessly to fight the disorder of the universe, have broken down. The mass of nerves and tissue that once held everything he was would disintegrate. He has no family, no home. No sign that he had ever breathed, fought, struggled, lived, loved._

_“I will fight the entropy in you, and win,” says the Wolf, “just as surely as I conquer all my foes.” She is golden-furred and vast. Her teeth can rend the walls between dimensions. Her voice sounds like Rose, and another voice beneath, more sung than spoken. “I will win, and so give you life. But it displeases me that you think yourself without home or family. Who do you think I am?”_

_“I'm dead,” says the man. He has had many names, but his true family calls him Jack. The Wolf is right. He has a family. And oh, how they will grieve when they learn that he's gone._

_“Dead?” The Wolf bares teeth as long as the span of time. “Never.”_

_“Why not? You're the Bad Wolf. I don't know what that means, not really, but I can see what you are. You could save anyone. You could reverse all the entropy that ever was. What makes me so special?”_

_“You are special because I love you.” The Wolf pins him beneath her paw. “You will forget by the time you return. Until then, be still. This is going to hurt.”_

* * *

Pain came first. Then, with the pain, a realization: _I'm alive. Only living can hurt this much._

Then his thoughts surrendered to the pain for a while longer. He was breathing, somehow, each breath a torment, though none as bad as the first. There was a voice murmuring near his ear. He couldn't make out the words or the speaker, but the sound was soothing.

A second realization: _whatever this is, it's happened before._ Not long ago, in fact. A lance of white light, an all-consuming fire in his chest, then consciousness and terrible, bone-deep pain.

The Dalek had killed him, just like the Weeping Angel. He had come back to life, as he was doing now. Why hadn't he realized it before? He must not have wanted to believe. He still didn't want to.

Jack realized, as the pain receded, that he was being held in someone's arms. He supposed he ought to find out who, and opened his eyes. It was Sarge, her face harshly lit by the flare of a high-caliber electric lantern.

When she saw his eyes open and staring, she inhaled sharply and swayed a little on her knees. “Lazarus,” she said.

“Who's Lazarus?” said Jack, blearily.

“Man that Jesus brought back from the dead,” said Sarge. “Did you see _him_?”

“I don't know what I saw,” Jack answered honestly. Then he stiffened and looked around wildly. “Where's the Doctor?”

“Back from the dead, and the first thing you think of is the Doctor,” said Sarge, shaking her head in wonder. “You must love that man, ay?”

“Where is he?” said Jack, pulling out of Sarge's arms and up to his feet.

“Don't know. I got your call for backup and found you here. I was going to put you in a body bag.” Sarge got up from her kneeling position and looked him in the eye. “You were _dead_ , and then you weren't. Wasn't paying attention to much else.”

“Don't worry about me. I'm fine. The Doctor and Rose are the ones who need help. Hold up your lantern, follow me, and keep a lookout. If you see a statue that looks like an angel, tell me, and _don't look away_.”

“A statue that looks like an angel? _What?_ ”

Jack reached out and took Sarge by the shoulders. “Sarge, that's not the first time I've come back from the dead. I don't know how or why any more than you do. But that doesn't matter. All I care about is getting them back. Will you help me?”

“You're an impossible thing, Lazarus,” said Sarge, and Jack could see genuine fear in her eyes. He understood. He was afraid too, not just for the Doctor and Rose but of what he'd become – and why the Doctor had known and never told him. “But if it were my husband missing, I'd be the same as you.” She reached into an inner pocket of her uniform jacket and took out two keys, one loose and one on a chain. “The Doctor gave these to Ndlovu, back in the pavilion by the lantern booth, who passed them on to me. He said the Doctor didn't tell him to guard them with his life, but he might as well have, by the look on his face.”

With a quick glance around, Jack took the keys. He put his key on its chain back around his neck and under his catsuit, then reached behind to unzip the back of his suit and put the Doctor's key in the holster surgically embedded at the base of his spine, concealed by a seamless hologram that mimicked the look and feel of his own skin.

Sarge raised an eyebrow. “Do I want to know where you put that other key?”

“Depends. How much do you want to know about me?” He quirked his eyebrows enough to pass it off as flirtation, but he kept a hint of a warning in his tone: _don't press further than you need to._

“Just enough so my husband doesn't lose any sleep,” said Sarge. _Message received._

“Good.” Jack zipped the suit back up. “Let's get moving. And don't forget what I said about the statues. You can think I'm crazy all you like, as long as you do what I say.”

Sarge took up the lantern and scanned the garden all around her as she walked, freeing up Jack's attention. He looked ahead, and saw the TARDIS was still there. He wasn't sure whether to feel terrified or relieved. If the TARDIS was still there, that meant the Angel hadn't got hold of her. But it also meant that the Doctor could be unconscious, or sent back in time like Rose, or dying – on the brink of regeneration with no TARDIS or loving partner to guide him through it. He keyed up a scan for the Doctor's biosignature with his wrist strap. No sign. Jack told himself, firmly, that there was no use wondering if the Doctor had died permanently, his corpse lying broken in the garden somewhere. He had to get to the TARDIS before the Lonely Assassin did. Finding the Doctor – dead or alive – came second.

“Are you going to tell me what that blue box is all about?” asked Sarge. “One of my officers saw it earlier. Thought it was bleeding odd, but given the circumstances…” She trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief. Jack recognized the expression, having felt it himself more than once. It was one of the phases of coming in contact with something you couldn't accept was real: the part where you go along with it, even though you don't quite believe it yet, because it's easier than denying it altogether. It was how he had felt when he had just been rescued from his doomed Chula warship.

“It's my ride,” said Jack, “and you're coming with me.”

“Your – oh, _shit_.” Sarge stopped in her tracks.

Jack felt his adrenaline kick into high gear. “What is it?”

Sarge held out her torch so Jack could clearly see the Doctor's red and gold lantern shattered on the rocks of the garden.

There was no sign of the Doctor. The Angel had sent him back in time. He could be surrounded by dangerous animals, like Rose, or worse. It was better than having his neck broken, Jack told himself, but still it felt as if the Weeping Angel's stone hands were around his throat again, cutting off his air.

Sarge laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Lazarus. Let's see your ride, or whatever it is. The Doctor can't have vanished off the face of the Earth. He's got to be somewhere. You'll find him.”

Jack nodded sharply, and trotted over to the TARDIS, closing the last yards with a few long strides. He used the key around his neck to open the door, glanced around for any signs of Lonely Assassins, and gestured for Sarge to follow him in. She looked ready to protest, but Jack drew on his experience commanding junior officers at the Time Agency and gave her a Look that brooked no denial. She recognized the Look, universal to high-ranking officers, and stepped into the TARDIS. Jack quickly closed the door behind her.

With a clang and a crash, the electric lantern fell from Sarge's hand to shatter on the metal grating. Jack flinched, both in sympathy for the TARDIS and at the reminder of the Doctor's shattered lantern not far outside. He understood the reaction, though. If he'd had anything but his wrist strap and the clothes on his back when he'd first seen the inside of the TARDIS, he'd have dropped it too.

“This is the maddest thing I've ever seen in my life,” she said slowly, “and I just saw a man come back from the dead.”

“The TARDIS is madder than I am,” Jack agreed. He came up the ramp and gestured to the jumpseat. “Why don't you sit down?”

Sarge nodded, still looking around the console room wide-eyed, and sat. Then she looked down at the empty hand that had been holding the lantern. “Oh. I'm sorry.”

“I'll take care of it later,” said Jack. “Right now I've got bigger problems.”

He stood at his usual co-pilot spot on the console, looking down at the controls. He had never flown the TARDIS on his own before, and hadn't flown her at all since the Doctor regenerated. He'd said that he needed to re-establish his rapport with the TARDIS, and that Jack would soon have his chance to co-pilot again. But here he was, alone, and the Doctor and Rose's lives depended on his ability to guide the TARDIS where he needed her to go.

He reached out and rested his fingertips on a switch. At once, he felt a jolt, as if electrocuted by the TARDIS' thoughts. She was _afraid_ of him. No, that wasn't quite true – he _hurt_. His very presence burned, and his touch was even worse.

A wave of betrayal rose in Jack's throat like bile. His knees went weak, and he sagged against the console. The Doctor had known what was going to happen when the Angel took him. _I'm so sorry for what's about to happen,_ he'd said, _and for what will come after._ All that talk about wanting to re-establish his rapport with the TARDIS had been a ruse to keep Jack from finding the truth. The TARDIS could barely stand him, and she and the Doctor were a part of each other. On some level, the Doctor could barely stand him either. When the Doctor had been moving against him last night, kissing his neck and murmuring sweet nonsense in his ear, Rose looking on, he'd been feeling _this_.

Jack felt strong arms behind him, and for a moment he tensed unconsciously. But it wasn't the Weeping Angel holding him, guiding him down to the jumpseat. It was Sarge, tucking his head to lean against her shoulder. He shook with the sheer effort of holding it all in. He couldn't fall to pieces now, not when the Doctor and Rose's lives hung in the balance.

The softest of whispers began at the back of his mind, a song sung by a shy child, and Jack realized that Sarge wasn't the only one comforting him. The TARDIS was sorry. His presence still bubbled away like a vat of acid inside her, but all the same, she didn't want him to hurt. How could he tell? How had he known how he felt to the TARDIS when he'd touched her console? He'd always had a special connection with her, but he'd never been able to discern her thoughts with such clarity.

Something between an image and a feeling filled Jack's mind. A golden glow, bright as a star's core, beating within the TARDIS like a heart, and alongside Jack's own heart, a thread spun of that same gold anchoring them together. The thread pulsed with the same rhythm that patterned the TARDIS' song. Jack didn't understand it. He had a feeling the TARDIS was trying to communicate with him through senses that Jack didn't possess. But it gave him hope. He was connected to the TARDIS. In some way, he belonged here.

“I'm sorry,” Jack murmured, the sound muffled by Sarge's shoulder. The connection between him and the TARDIS meant hope, but it also meant he couldn't spare her the agony that was his presence. Maybe if the connection were severed somehow, he wouldn't pain her so much, but he didn't want to break it. Neither did she, he suspected.

Sarge misinterpreted Jack's words, thinking, logically enough, that they were directed at her. “No need to apologize.” A beat. “If anything, I'm relieved that a man who can't die can feel pain as much as anyone else.”

“So am I,” admitted Jack. He pulled himself upright. Now that he knew about this connection to the TARDIS, he had a better chance of piloting her right. He would get Rose first; he didn't think he could face the Doctor right now.

The first step would be to wire his wrist strap into the console so he could direct the TARDIS to the source of the phone call from Rose. It was unlikely he'd land there right on time, but the Doctor's track record was hardly any better, and he would do everything in his power to make sure Rose didn't have to wait long after her call to be rescued. He reached for a bare wire coming out of the console and felt another jolt of raw pain from the TARDIS. Gritting his teeth, he kept hold of the wire with his left hand and unstrapped his wrist strap with his right.

Sarge watched his attempts. “Is that wire electrocuting you?”

“Not… exactly,” said Jack, teeth still clenched as he opened the wrist strap and directed the wire inside, pain still coursing through him.

“Take this, you fool man.” Sarge reached into her pocket and produced a thick work glove.

Jack let go of the wire and put it on. “Thanks.” When he returned to his task, he could still feel the TARDIS screaming faintly at the back of his mind, but it was a sympathetic pain rather than a physical one, and he could tune it out for the time being. He patched the wrist strap into the console and set to work programming the TARDIS to trace the time and location of the last call it had received.

Sarge folded her arms as she watched him. “Why did you invite me in here, Lazarus? It seems I'm not much use to you.”

“You could have been in serious danger if I'd left you out there. Besides, I don't know anything about South Africa. Rose is somewhere in or near the country, and the Doctor probably is too. You'll be plenty helpful once we've landed wherever they are.”

“How do you know where they are?”

“The Doctor's just a guess based on Rose. She called me from her phone. She's in the savanna. Alone. No food or water.”

“Should I even bother asking how that happened?”

“Let's just say that the universe is a lot scarier than you think, and the thing that killed me is one of the scariest. It's what took Rose, the girl, and your officers from the Stormgarden.”

Sarge sat up ramrod straight. “You know where my officers are?”

Jack grimaced. “I'm afraid not. All I know is that they're probably somewhere nearby, but they've gone back in time. I might be able to help you get them back, but not until I've found the Doctor first.”

“I _will_ have them back, _Captain_. They disappeared on my watch. They're my responsibility.”

“I know. Just help me get Rose and the Doctor back safely, and we'll do our best to get them back. I promise.” Jack tapped a few more keys, nodded approvingly at the readout on the screen, then took up position at his usual piloting spot. “I've made my offer. Do you accept?” he asked Sarge.

She nodded.

“OK. Hold on tight.” He eyed the sergeant. “No, really. Hold on to the seat. This is not going to be a smooth ride.”

Sarge's knuckles tightened on the front edge of the jumpseat. Jack let out a breath and tried to clear his mind. He didn't have any conscious knowledge of how to do this. But he had the muscle memory of co-piloting with the Doctor, and he had the golden thread beside his heart, thrumming in time with the heart of the TARDIS. It would have to be enough.

His hands moved, almost of their own accord, flipping switches and twisting dials. Suddenly, before he was quite aware of it, he was dashing around to the other side the console, almost pummeling the controls there. A rasping, groaning sound, the most wonderful sound in the universe, filled his ears. Despite everything, Jack grinned. He had been responsible for that sound. He was filling the storm-charged air of the garden with it, and he hoped the Weeping Angel, if it was still there, was howling its frustration.

He moved through the next few minutes as if in a dream. Time didn't proceed in logical order; sometimes he seemed to be pulling each lever in slow motion, and other times he'd blink and be halfway around the console with barely a clue how he'd gotten there. The TARDIS was probably piloting herself more than he was flying her, but the partnership was working. It was working, despite the high, pained shriek still sawing at the back of his mind.

The journey ended with one last rasp and a thud. Sarge was shaken – literally, as she'd been thrown off the jumpseat within moments of dematerialization – but smiling. “ _Mad_ ,” he heard her say quietly, shaking her head.

Jack bounded down the ramp, but hesitated before opening the door. What if he'd made a mistake? What if he'd landed a month or a year later, and Rose was either dead or so angry at him for not coming on time that she wouldn't love him anymore? He'd be part of events as soon as he opened the door, unable to undo that mistake.

“Go on, then,” came Sarge's voice from behind him. “Or are you going to stand there brooding for a while longer?”

Sarge was right. It was no use. There was probably some way to check the date and time before stepping out, but he didn't know how. Besides, he had to put his trust in the TARDIS. She'd been inside his head, guiding him, despite how much it must have hurt her to be so intertwined with his psychic presence. It wouldn't be fair of him to doubt her now.

With a deep breath to steady his resolve, Jack opened the door.

* * *

The elephant charged toward Rose. She leapt to her feet, the pain of her injuries forgotten in a burst of adrenaline, and ran. But it wasn't any use. The elephant was faster than her, and while she had to dodge around bushes and thickets, it could just crash through.

Suddenly, she heard the trees rustle and groan with a wind that hadn't been there moments before. A grinding sound filled the air. Rose looked back over her shoulder to see the elephant wheeling around mid-charge to face the source of the noise. The TARDIS was fading in and out of sight as it materialized in the middle of a thorn thicket. Rose wanted nothing more than to run toward it, but the elephant was squarely in her path, trumpeting its rage at this new intruder.

Rose heard Jack's voice shouting, and another she didn't recognize. Then there was the crackle of an energy weapon. It didn't seem to hit the elephant, but it made the creature halt its charge, at least for the moment. Rose carefully edged toward the TARDIS, taking a path that circled well clear of the distracted elephant. It had its ears spread wide, its trunk raised high. It let out a trumpet so loud the sound was like a blow to the head. Rose staggered a little, and she tripped over a thorny bush, drawing yet more blood from her leg.

She was close enough now to hear Jack and the other person talking. “Go! Find your Rose!” the stranger was saying. “I'll hold it off!” There was another crackle, also missing the elephant, and it reared back a little in surprise and agitation.

“Jack!” Rose cried. “I'm here!” Within moments she could see Jack running toward her, heedless of the thorns that tore at his sequined catsuit. There was a third shot, and this one hit the elephant in the flank. It didn't stop the elephant, but only enraged it. It screamed and charged the TARDIS. The figure standing in front dashed inside and shut the door. The fury of the elephant's charge knocked the TARDIS backward, the doors facing up, but otherwise didn't harm her.

Jack reached her then, circling his arms around her, and she abruptly went boneless. She noticed she was bleeding onto his catsuit from dozens of cuts, her blood dulling the sparkle of the sequins. “My ribs hurt,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Sorry.” He eased his embrace a little so as to put less pressure on her injuries. Behind him she could hear the elephant trumpet again. Jack looked over his shoulder. “I think he's figured out he can't hurt the TARDIS. If we stay quiet, he'll lose interest and go somewhere else.”

“Where's the Doctor?” said Rose. Her ankle burned with pain, and she shifted her weight to the other leg. She must have sprained that one. “And who's that other person with the gun?”

She felt Jack tense. “The Angels took him away, just like they did to you. I'm not sure where he is.”

“So you flew the TARDIS here all by yourself?”

“I wasn't alone. I brought Sarge with me. She's the head of security for the party at the Stormgarden.”

“I'm glad you did. She probably saved our lives.”

That, too, made Jack tense, though Rose wasn't sure why. “The elephant's walking away. Looks like he's spoiling for a fight, though, so let's not give him any reason.” He guided them into the shade of a dense tangle of thorny trees, out of sight. “Sarge said he's a bull elephant in musth. Some kind of testosterone-fueled rampage. When their hormones are running high like that, they'll attack anything.”

“Sounds like my mum 'round that time of the month,” Rose said, laughing weakly. It was hard to focus on anything, with her ankle sending ribbons of searing pain up her leg.

“Oh, that's nothing. Some species out there have way worse hormone surges. I remember one time when my ship crash-landed in the middle of a T'xol fertility rite. I crawled out of the wreckage and…”

Rose let Jack's tall tale wash over her, absorbing the warmth and mischief in his voice more than the content, though she could tell from his tone all the parts where she was supposed to laugh, and did so obligingly. It distracted her from the pain, which she knew was the point.

“…and I would have loved to be a fly on the wall during _that_ disciplinary hearing. Oh, hey. Rose, the elephant's gone. Let's go back to the TARDIS. I've got you.” Rose held onto Jack's arm, limping on her good leg, and let him steer her back toward the TARDIS. She propped herself up against it as Jack climbed on top of the left door and opened the right with his key. She felt a stab of loss when she saw it. The Doctor would give her a replacement key, of course, but her first key would always hold a special place in her heart. It reminded her, every time she touched it, of when the Doctor had first given it to her.

The door swung inward. It was disorienting to look inside the TARDIS when it was tipped over, the interior at right angles to the world around her. It looked like she would fall in if she tried to step through.

“The gravity change will be disorienting at first,” said Jack, noticing the worry on her face. “Let me help you.” He gathered her firmly against his side with one arm and hoisted her up so she was standing on the left door. Then he stepped through, still holding her close. Rose's world spun for a moment as her sense of up and down was suddenly _wrong_. Her brain insisted she was standing on a wall rather than a floor, but gravity was pulling toward it. She clutched at Jack's torn catsuit until the dizziness passed.

“Good shooting there, Sarge,” said Jack. “I was hoping we wouldn't have to kill the elephant. Rose and I owe you.”

Rose gave Sarge a brittle smile through the pain. She was a solid-looking woman, her uniform crisp and her stance ready. “Yeah, thanks a lot. I thought I was done for.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Rose. Thank Jack. He was frantic about you.” To Jack, she said, “Do something about her ankle, will you? It's swollen up to twice its size.”

Jack nodded. “I'll take her to the medical bay. If you want tea or anything else, take a right down the corridor, two lefts, and down the ramp. There's a kitchen with all the fixings.”

Sarge raised an eyebrow – clearly she hadn't expected the TARDIS to be quite _that_ big on the inside – but didn't ask. She made her way down the corridor, dragging her fingertips along the wall as if to reassure herself by touch that the ship was real.

“Come on, sweetheart,” said Jack. Rose leaned against him, resting most of her weight on him, and he took her to the medical bay, which was the first door to the left as usual when there was an emergency. Rose settled on the bed, sighing with relief at the lack of weight on her injured ankle. Jack eased off her tattered dress, his fingers gentle and warm against her bare skin, intimate but not sexual. He may have had more libido than anyone Rose had ever met, but he always knew when his advances were wanted and when they were inappropriate. She felt herself relax slowly under his ministrations.

“What happened after I called you?” said Rose over the familiar hum of the surgical robot. In a moment, she knew, there would be a piercingly cold sensation in her ankle, then numbness.

Jack knelt in front of Rose, watching carefully as the spider-shaped robot drilled into Rose's numbed foot, relieving the swelling and fixing the torn ligament. “We ran to the TARDIS, quick as we could. And then…” He let out a shuddering breath and leaned his head against the side of the bed. Rose reached out to stroke his hair, ignoring the strange grinding sensations in her foot as the surgical robot did its work. She had the feeling neither of them were going to like what he was about to say.

“One of them got me. The Lonely Assassins. It _had_ me, completely. There was nothing I could do to escape. The Doctor was watching, and I didn't know when he was going to blink, and he – he _knew_. He _knew_!”

Jack pressed his face against Rose's leg, and she felt the scratches there burn as if covered in salt. She studied Jack's face, and realized he was crying against her skin.

“Shhh,” said Rose, increasing the pressure on his scalp with her fingertips as she stroked. “It's all right.”

“It's not all right,” said Jack, hoarsely. He looked up at her, his cheek resting against her calf. His face had little smears of her blood on it. She wiped the blood and tears away with her thumb. “Rose, what do you remember about the Game Station?”

Rose's thumb stilled on the center of his cheekbone. “After you – after you said goodbye?” He nodded, and Rose moved her hand down to the side of his neck. “The Doctor tricked me. He - she - sent me home. Mum was over the moon, thought she'd got me back for good, but all I could think about was you and the Doctor dying out there in the future while I sat safe in a chippie. Mum and Mickey helped me get the TARDIS console open – sorry, girl – and then…” She shook her head. “Nothing, until I woke up in the TARDIS with you there and the Doctor dying. God, Jack, you nearly died too. We were so lucky.”

Jack's neck tensed beneath her hand. “I didn't nearly die.”

“What?”

“I didn't _nearly_ die. I _did_ die. Dalek shot to the chest. I didn't know it, then, because I had nothing to compare it to. Who knows what dying feels like? So I told you the Dalek's gun must have malfunctioned, a lucky fluke, because that's what I really thought. But it happened again. The Angel killed me. I felt my neck snapping. And I'm still here.”

“You're sure?”

He nodded. “Sarge was there when I came back to life. She won't stop calling me Lazarus. And…”

Rose squeezed the side of his neck, very gently. “And what?”

“And the Doctor knew. I think he's known ever since the Game Station. When the Angel had me, he said something about what would come after. He knew I'd come back. And he's kept me from helping him fly the TARDIS on purpose. As soon as I touched the console, I could tell. The TARDIS hates me.” His voice broke on the words.

“Not a chance!” said Rose. “She wouldn't let you use the medical equipment on me if she didn't trust you.”

“She trusts me,” Jack amended, “but I _hurt_ her. There's something about me that makes her cringe. Just me being inside her is like torture, and I don't know why.”

Rose tilted his head up. “Jack, you're going to get answers from the Doctor. I'll slap some sense into him myself if I have to. I promise. But we've got to find him first.”

Jack hadn't seemed to quite register her words. “Why hasn't he kicked me out? If I hurt the TARDIS this much, I shouldn't be anywhere near her. If I hurt the TARDIS, I must be hurting him. Why has he let me stay?”

“Because he loves you, you idiot!” Rose had half a mind to slap some sense into Jack, too. “Just because he's too much of a _child_ to say it out loud doesn't mean it's not true! He wants you here no matter how much it hurts. He'd crawl over hot coals for you – for both of us. Can't you see that?”

“If he loves us that much, then why can't he tell us the truth?”

“I don't know,” said Rose. “Let's rescue him and find out.”


	3. Wrong

Rose reached for the dermal regenerator. “Hold still. You're covered in scratches almost as badly as I am. I'm taking off that catsuit and healing you up. Then you can do me.”

It said something about Jack's emotional state, Rose thought, that he didn't make a single suggestive comment as she peeled away the remains of his shiny black catsuit. He relaxed a little as she sealed up the scratches on his skin, easing his physical pain, if nothing else. Then he disinfected and sealed her cuts and welts with a pass of the dermal regenerator.

Rose held his hand, and they walked to the wardrobe room. They played an old game they had: picking out each other's outfits and wearing whatever the other chose. Rose brought him jeans and a soft flannel shirt, both because he'd be comfortable in them and because she'd never seen him in flannel before. Jack had picked out a jumper, a knee-length skirt, and leggings, all in shades of pink and yellow and green, the colors of spring. She put them on, along with a pair of sturdy trainers. Jack put on trainers as well and tucked a pair of gloves in his pocket. They held hands again and went to the console room.

“How are we going to find him?” Rose said, staring at the console. She'd helped Jack and the Doctor when they were flying, pressing a button here and hitting the mallet there, but she wouldn't have the foggiest idea what to do without their instruction. Jack must know a thing or two, as he'd managed to come for her in time, but he'd had some idea of where she was.

“She must know where he is,” Jack said. “I just have to coax her into taking us there.” He put on the gloves from his pocket and reached for his wrist strap, which Rose realized was wired into the console. How hadn't she noticed before that he wasn't wearing it? She'd never seen him without it before. Now that she looked, there was a tan line on his wrist where it had been, just below the edge of his glove. He was keying something into the wrist strap – a scan for the Doctor's biosignature, probably. She'd seen him do that a handful of times.

“Why are you wearing gloves?” Rose asked.

“I told you,” Jack said, still focused on the wrist strap. “The TARDIS can't stand me. When I touch the console with my bare hands, I can feel how much my touch hurts her. Feels like being electrocuted. She can still feel me when I have gloves on, but at least I can concentrate on what I'm doing.”

Rose couldn't help but feel some of the betrayal that ached in Jack's voice. How could the TARDIS feel that way about Jack? Rose had always got the impression that she was especially fond of him. How could she do this to him? How could the Doctor allow it?

Sarge came into the console room then. She looked down at Rose's ankle, which she was now putting weight on normally, though it was still a bit sore. A crease appeared between Sarge's brows.

“Just accept that anything can happen in here,” Rose advised her. “It's easier that way.”

“I think I may have no choice,” said Sarge slowly. “The kettle took five seconds to boil the water and then asked me if I wanted Earl Grey or Irish Breakfast. It took me five tries to get it to give me rooibos.”

“The AI was just being rude,” Rose said. “It always gives you a choice, but it never offers the kind of tea you want. You have to show it who's in charge.”

“Got it,” said Jack, standing next to the screen on the console. “Or at least, as close to it as I can. Can you be ready with the mallet, Rose?”

Rose nodded. To Sarge, she said, “Better hang on to something.”

Sarge grimaced. “I learned that lesson last time.” She gripped a railing and spread her stance wide for balance.

“And go,” Jack murmured. A change came over him then that Rose had a hard time putting her finger on. He'd always been good at helping the Doctor pilot the TARDIS, but he didn't have the same bone-deep intuition about her. He'd relied on his intelligence, his experience, his mutual love for the ship, and on cues from the Doctor. But now he had that same split-second knowledge of where to be and which control to tweak. It was almost as if his body were an extension of the TARDIS herself. Rose wondered how the TARDIS could find Jack's presence so unbearable, and at the same time join with him into a nearly seamless whole. The journey was a lot bumpier than usual, but Jack had only months of experience, as opposed to the Doctor's centuries. Nothing about this made sense.

They landed with a thud, and Jack was himself again. Rose dearly wanted to ask him what it had been like for him, flying the TARDIS like that, but saving the Doctor had to come first. Sarge was waiting for them down the ramp, and Rose and Jack joined her.

Rose opened the door. They were surrounded by ocean. She could see a shore, but it looked to be far off. The TARDIS had landed on a bare rock jutting out of the ocean, too small to count as an island by anyone's standard. The waves were big enough that Rose felt a little seasick just looking at them. They crashed into the rock where they had landed, sending up fountains of spray. She couldn't see the Doctor anywhere.

“There,” said Sarge, pointing. There was a figure floating on one of the swells, just barely visible through the sea spray.

“I'm going in,” said Jack without hesitation, reaching for the top button of his shirt.

“Fool man!” said Sarge, gripping one of Jack's wrists. She pointed to the shore. “Can't you see? We're in the waters just off the Cape. There's a current going round the coast that brings waters up from Antarctica. You'll freeze to death.”

“He could be dying of exposure!” said Jack. “Let me go get a suit. I'm going in!”

“No you're not,” said Sarge. “I am.”

“Sarge, we can't ask you to risk – ” Rose began.

“You're not asking. I'm telling. I specialized in search-and-rescue for years. Retired to security detail for fancy parties after a traumatic brain injury. Had a near-complete recovery, thanks to my husband, but we decided I needed a career change.” Sarge shrugged. “But I'll change back to my old line of work for as long as I'm needed. Where can I get a wetsuit?”

Jack and Rose managed to dig up a 51st century wetsuit, which wasn't so much a suit as a blob of clear jelly that molded itself in a watertight seal around Sarge's body, with a slightly thicker layer around her nose and mouth that would convert water to oxygen. She didn't even have to take her uniform off. They added flippers for her feet, and she was ready to go.

“Good luck,” said Rose. “And thank you.”

Jack just smiled encouragingly and clapped her on the shoulder. She nodded, stepped out onto the edge of the rock, then dove into the spray.

It was obvious to Rose that Jack felt he should be the one rescuing the Doctor. Even when he felt that betrayed by the Doctor, Jack wanted to save him. Rose knew how he felt. She'd felt betrayed by the Doctor too, when he'd sent her back home without asking her what she wanted, but she came back to save him anyway.

She couldn't see Sarge anymore, and for a heart-stopping moment she couldn't see the Doctor either. She took Jack's hand and leaned her head against his shoulder, the soft flannel rubbing her cheek.

“He's right there,” said Jack, pointing with his other hand. Again the figure of the Doctor bobbed up on the crest of one of the huge swells.

“How can she swim through water like that? I'm getting seasick just watching,” said Rose.

“There's a trick to swimming through open ocean,” said Jack, his eyes distant, and Rose knew he was remembering his childhood on the Boeshane Peninsula, where the sea was as much a part of home as the shore. “You have to use the waves to propel you forward, not fight through them. Even when the waves are at the wrong angle for the direction where you're going, you zigzag like a sailcraft in an unfavorable wind. And you never forget which way is up, no matter how much the waves toss you around. That's the first lesson they taught all the kids, back on the Boe.”

Rose almost said that it wasn't past tense, that the Boeshane peninsula was just a TARDIS trip away, and somewhere in time and space the 'Shanes were still teaching children how to swim through the surf, but it wasn't true as far as Jack was concerned. For him, it was past tense. He was on the Boe right up until it was evacuated. Not long after that, the community of refugee 'Shanes didn't accept him anymore, and before his time – well, Rose knew all too well how dangerous that could be. The truth was that he couldn't go back. There was nowhere in the universe he could call home except the TARDIS.

A surge of anger rose in her. The TARDIS was Jack's only home. Didn't she know that? Couldn't she see what it meant to him, to be feared and rejected by the only place in the universe where he belonged?

“All right, that's it,” said Rose, pulling away from Jack. “The TARDIS and I are going to have it out, right now. And if she doesn't listen to me, I'll bloody well find another lorry to tear open her console with.”

She strode up to the console and planted her hands wherever there was room for them between the controls. She looked up at the central rotor, her eyes narrowed. “You know how I feel about you, girl, but I've had enough of this rubbish. If Jack's so frightening, I want to know why. Show me!”

A frisson of warning tickled across her palms. Rose set her jaw. “I don't care how bad it is. I want to know. Show me.”

All at once, the universe. The heart of the TARDIS, glowing golden. The stuff of gold, torn from her heart, woven into a rope as firm as steel amidst all the gossamer threads of Time, extending all the way from Beginning to End, inescapable. Hers, it was a part of _her_ , how could it have been torn out and perverted into this? It was a noose ringed around the circle of Time, pressure, no way out, so unchangingly star-core-bright that it burned, and it was inside her and all she could do was _scream_ –

Rose pulled her hands from the console and took a step back. “You're wrong,” she said.

She heard a gasp behind her, a low pained sound like a child in pain, alone. She turned to see Jack staring at her, face gone white. “No. Not you too,” Jack whispered. “I can't.”

Rose closed the distance between them in two long bounds and reached up to frame his face in her hands. “Not you, Jack. Never you. I'm going to show the TARDIS just how wrong _she_ is.” And she pulled him down for a fierce kiss, drinking in the essence of him, his scent and the way his tongue moved against hers and the tiny responsive sounds he made. All the while, the memory of the TARDIS' terror and panic burned in the back of her mind. But she knew better than to let it get in the way.

She drew back, looked up at the ceiling, and said, “You're _wrong_! If it had been anyone else, I'd understand. It'd be terrible to have a part of you taken out and put inside someone you didn't care about. I'm not really sure what happened, exactly, but it'd be terrible for someone like Margaret the Slitheen or that tosser Adam to be all – part of Time like that. But this is _Jack_. He's the man who's walking around with a bit of your heart inside him. And don't think you're the only one, either! He's got a bit of my heart too, and the Doctor's hearts. That's what love is. And if you're afraid to entrust a bit of your heart to him the way we have, then you don't deserve him. You got that?”

A flood of empathy and regret washed up through her. The pain was there, too, no longer mingled with panic, though no less intense for that.

Jack must have felt it too. “I don't want to hurt you, old girl. You know that. I'll do whatever I can to help. But please forgive me for hurting you. Let me stay.”

That was when Jack did something Rose had never seen him do before. He _blushed_. His cheeks were bright pink, and with her face so close to his, Rose could feel the heat coming off them. What on earth?

“She _kissed_ me!” said Jack, pressing his fingertips to his lips. “Like you just did. Except – it was the way it feels to kiss, in your head, everything narrowing down, and the warmth and all the things you try to say with your lips and your tongue and…” He shook his head in wonder. “She's a good kisser.”

Rose beamed. “Don't I get a snog, then?” she asked the TARDIS, but Jack tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned to look back out at the ocean.

Sarge had reached the Doctor and was hauling him back. They disappeared under a wave for a few moments, then resurfaced. Rose couldn't see well enough through the spray of the waves crashing against the rock to tell how the Doctor was doing. She twined her arm around Jack's and waited.

“Thank you,” said Jack, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Don't thank me just yet. I've got a feeling I'll have to repeat that performance with the Doctor. But I'll do it, Jack. Just you watch.”

“You promised,” said Jack, as if Rose's promise could rearrange the universe. She'd never heard anyone talk like that about her, not even the Doctor. After all, if he really believed in her that much, he wouldn't have sent her away from the Game Station as if she were a child trying to play in traffic, would he? Jack wasn't the only one with a score to settle with the Doctor, Rose decided.

Sarge surged through the spray and hauled herself back onto the rock, the Doctor in tow. Rose had only a moment to admire the sergeant's tremendous strength and bravery before fear and horror made her insides turn cold, even as Jack ran outside to help. The Doctor was grey, hollow-faced, and wracked with whole body spasms so violent that for a moment Rose wasn't sure whether he was shivering or having a seizure. Sarge pressed down on his chest a few times, and he spat up seawater before taking huge harsh gasps of air. When Jack appeared at his side, he had another full-body convulsion, then curled up on his side so he was facing away from Jack, arms tucked up over his head as if to shield himself from impact. Jack flinched and took a step back.

Rose ran outside. She wasn't dressed for the cold, and she felt her teeth chatter a little. She knelt at the Doctor's side and took his pulse. It was weak and thready.

“He can hang in a bit longer,” she shouted over the crashing waves. “We've got to get him to the medical bay quick, though!”

Sarge nodded and slung him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry. Jack was already halfway back to the TARDIS, so Rose led Sarge in through the door and to the medical bay. Jack stood just outside the entrance, looking desperately worried, but he made no move to help. _That must be killing him_ , Rose thought, but there was nothing to be done. Jack was probably right to keep his distance, at least for now.

Sarge laid the Doctor on the bed as gently as she could. He coughed violently, then his body curled in on itself in another spasm, and now Rose was nearly certain it wasn't a reaction to the cold. She covered him with a blanket anyway and started tapping at a screen at the foot of the bed. She'd been through this often enough to know how to key up a medical scan, and forced herself to keep her mind clear until they figured out how to help the Doctor.

Sarge had stepped back outside the medical bay, and Jack was helping her take off the wetsuit. When it was pooled back into a blob of clear jelly in her hands, Jack asked, “How cold was the water? Was he like this when you found him?”

“Ten degrees, I'd say. And he was in no good shape when I found him, but he wasn't having fits like he is now.”

The Doctor spasmed again, his back flexing into a bow, and this time he found enough breath to scream. Rose bit back a cry of her own. She had to keep steady. The results of the scan told her that his body temperature was below normal, and his lungs were damaged from the seawater.

“Thank you, Sarge,” said Jack. “Rose and I will take care of him. As soon as he's well, we'll find everyone else the Angel took. I don't know how long it'll be, but the TARDIS travels in time. Wherever they are, we'll be there exactly when they need us. We just need the Doctor back first. OK?”

“My comm unit doesn't work in here,” said Sarge. “Is there any way I can contact my officers or my husband?”

Rose passed over her superphone without looking up. Jack gave her a brief demonstration of how to use it, then she left with quiet thanks. Rose told the bed to warm the Doctor up to his proper temperature. Then she found a mask hooked up to a series of gas tanks and fitted it over the Doctor's nose and mouth, pressing a button on the screen that prompted a flow of gases that would anesthetize the Doctor and heal the damage to his lungs.

Rose had hoped the anesthesia and the warmth would stop the Doctor's spasms, but she was mistaken. Even with the medicinal gas his face was an awful shade of grey, and he coiled into a tight ball of agony, almost making the mask slip off his face.

“The scanner won't tell me how to make it stop,” said Rose, her eyes filling with tears of worry and frustration. “He's freezing and he breathed in seawater, that's all it'll tell me, but that's not why he's in so much pain!”

Jack was leaning into the doorway of the med bay, just enough so his head poked through. He looked stricken at the sight of the Doctor. “No. It's me.”

“It's not you, it's something that happened to you. It isn't your fault.”

“Still. I should go.” After one last glance around the room, Jack said, “The screen says to take the mask off. There's enough of the gas in his lungs for now, and too much anesthesia could be dangerous.” Then he pulled his head out of the doorway and left.

Rose carefully slipped the mask off the Doctor's face. He met her eyes, the first sign she'd seen of any awareness of the world around him. “Rose,” he said, his voice a horrible rasp.

“I'm here,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder gently. “I've got you. Can you tell me what's wrong? What's hurting you?”

He shook his head.

“Please, Doctor,” she said. “You have to tell me.”

“There's nothing you can do,” he rasped. “Just let me – _ahh_!” He bucked against the bed in another convulsion.

“Is it Jack?” Rose said, her voice somehow steady through the tears she was choking back.

“What? No! Of course not!” The Doctor did a double take. “Where is he?”

“He just left. He was afraid he'd only hurt you worse if he stayed.”

“No! He can't!” The Doctor sounded almost panicked. “He can't leave!” He clutched at Rose, an almost painful pressure on her arm. She wondered, frantically, if he was delirious. “Rose, make him stay. You don't understand. I almost – ” The effort of speaking became too much, and he doubled over into another coughing fit.

Rose put the mask back on the Doctor's face before he had time to protest, and watched him breathe in the medicine, though her vision blurred with tears. It wasn't _fair_. The Doctor shouldn't have kept the truth from Jack, or from her. But it was obvious he didn't want Jack to leave, even though it hurt to be near him. What had happened to Jack, and why did it have to come between them?

The screen at the foot of the bed chimed, and Rose took the mask back off. The Doctor was breathing easier now, his color returning. It really had been Jack causing those fits of pain, Rose realized, feeling sick.

 _Prescription: bed rest_ , read the screen. That meant the Doctor was clear to leave the medical bay. Rose peeled the blanket off him, supported him under one arm, and helped him walk as best she could.

“I'm sorry,” the Doctor said. His eyes were unfocused, but his mouth kept going. “I _tried_ , Rose. I blocked it in my head. Didn't let it in. Tried to make it not hurt. But now he knows and he's going to _leave_ and it's all my fault!”

“No one's going to leave,” said Rose. “Hush. We're almost there. You'll get some rest. Here.”

She opened the door to their bedroom. It was warmer than usual, but Jack wasn't there, which made it seem colder than usual. Rose laid him on the bed and stripped off his soaked clothing, over his mumbled protests that he could undress himself, thanks. By the time she tucked the blankets over him, he was asleep.

A part of Rose wanted to sleep beside him, so he wouldn't be alone when he woke. But Jack needed her more, so she kissed the Doctor and left. She walked down the corridor with an image of Jack firmly in mind, which was usually enough to guide her to him no matter where in the TARDIS he was.

She found him at the archery range, a strung bow in his hand and a canister of arrows at his side. He nocked an arrow and lined up his shot, reacting not at all to Rose's presence. Jack drew the string back, tension gathering in his shoulders. He breathed in, aimed, and fired on an exhale. The string thrummed, and the arrow whispered through the air until it hit the target, just off center.

“He loves you,” said Rose, still standing in the doorway. “He didn't want you to leave.”

“I had to.” Jack nocked another arrow. “I will have to. Leave. This can't go on.” He drew the bowstring back.

“Didn't you listen? We don't want you to leave. You don't want to, either.”

Thrum. A soft thunk as the arrow hit.

“We do the impossible every day, Jack. We'll find a way. I promised, remember?”

Jack faced her, bow in one hand, an arrow in the other. “I trust you, Rose. You know that. But it isn't easy.” He looked down at the arrow. “Trust was a weapon, before I met you and the Doctor. I used it to hurt people.”

 _People used it to hurt you. Your own family used it to hurt you_ , Rose thought, but she stayed quiet, waiting.

“You showed me I was wrong. I trust you, and the Doctor, too. But I still don't understand it. I don't know the shape of it. It still feels… sharp. Not a weapon, but it could make me bleed if I don't hold on to it right.” He looked back up at Rose, and the look in his eyes was almost child-like, as if she had a map and could show him the way. “I need a bit of space. Time to think. Maybe we can talk when the Doctor wakes up. OK?”

Rose nodded. How could she tell him she didn't know the way out of this? She believed there was a way, but she couldn't see it. Her promise to him meant something, but it couldn't rearrange the universe the way she wanted it to be. She shut the door behind her, and before she left, stopped to listen as the bowstring thrummed once more.

She let the TARDIS guide her steps, and it occurred to her that things were different now between her and the timeship. She'd found Jack much faster than she used to, and she'd never been able to communicate with the TARDIS the way she had when they'd had their argument in the console room. She didn't know what it meant. Maybe Jack hadn't been the only one changed, one way or another, by what happened at the Game Station. It was a frightening thought. No wonder, then, that Rose found herself at the kitchen door. The TARDIS must know she'd find comfort in a cup of tea. Inside the kitchen, she saw Sarge cutting a sandwich into neat triangles.

“Hello,” said Rose. She took the kettle and filled it with water from an ornate silver tap.

“How's the Doctor?” said Sarge, setting her sandwich on a plate.

“Sleeping.”

“And Jack?”

“He's not the one who half-drowned,” said Rose, dodging the question.

Sarge gave her a look, eyebrows raised, but Rose ignored her. She didn't feel like explaining.

The kettle boiled. “Chai or Assam?” it said.

“Give me English Breakfast or I'll throw you out an airlock,” said Rose.

“This unit cannot process your request. Chai or Assam?”

Rose pulled a chipped blue mug down from the cabinet and set it in front of the kettle's spout. “Don't play stupid. You offered English Breakfast to the Doctor just two days ago when he wanted Darjeeling. Give me English Breakfast or I'll let him at you with the sonic screwdriver.”

A stream of tea tinged with milk poured from the spout into the mug. She took her tea and sat down at the kitchen table across from Sarge, who was starting on her sandwich.

“Did you make your phone calls?” said Rose, between sips of tea.

Sarge nodded, but she looked weary and grim. She reached into her jacket and passed Rose's mobile back to her across the table. “No sign of my missing officers, or of the young girl who was the first to disappear. Though I suppose there wouldn't be, if they were all sent back in time, same as you.”

Rose pocketed her mobile. “We'll find them,” she said. Of that much, at least, she was certain. “And your husband? Did you get through to him?”

“Ansel is…” Sarge took a bite of her sandwich and swallowed. “He's scared. I didn't tell him about all this,” she said, gesturing around at the TARDIS, “but I told him there's a kidnapper on the loose, which is true enough, and he feels helpless. He put a brave face on it, but I could tell he was frightened.”

“It's just like him, to muddle along like he isn't afraid. It reminds me of how we used to go sailing, before we were married. I've always loved sailing out on the ocean. I used to go out with a sailing club every weekend, back then, and Ansel started coming with me. It took me about three weeks to figure out it terrified him. He was scared half to death of falling off the boat and drowning, but he came along anyway, because he knew I loved it, and he wanted to share in all the things I loved.”

Sarge stopped to eat more of her sandwich, and Rose asked, “So what did you do?”

“Hmm?”

“When you found out. What did you do?”

Sarge shrugged, though there was a hint of a smile on her serious face. “I taught him how to swim.”

Rose stared at Sarge like she'd never seen the woman before, and swallowed a mouthful of tea, slowly. Maybe she could find the way out of this after all.


	4. Rescue Missions

The Doctor woke to the sight of Jack Harkness on his ceiling.

Well. Not on his ceiling. Rather, the mirror on the ceiling of their bedroom (Jack's doing, of course) had become a window into another room on the TARDIS, where Jack was sprawled on a recliner, looking back at him.

He could feel Rose beside him in bed. Jack was in a far distant room, as far as the TARDIS could make them. He could tell by the way his presence only simmered in his mind, rather than blazing like toxic fire.

The first words out the Doctor's mouth were: “Were you watching me sleep, Jack Harkness?”

“Both of you, actually,” said Jack, his voice light. “I couldn't pass up the opportunity when Rose set it up so nicely.”

“Rose did this? Since when has she been able to sweet-talk the TARDIS into doing something like this?”

“I don't know,” said Jack, and this time the lightness in his voice was almost painfully forced. “Seems like you ought to know.”

“I don't,” the Doctor said. He didn't. Nothing like the Bad Wolf had ever existed before, and if the universe was lucky, nothing like her would exist again. There was no telling what aftereffects she might have left, besides the obvious. More fool him, to assume Rose had been left untouched.

“Don't give me that,” Jack said, his casual sprawl gone rigid. “Something happened on the Game Station that you're not telling us. When the Weeping Angel had me, you knew what was going to – wait. Where is the Weeping Angel? Is it still out there somewhere with a TARDIS key?”

The Doctor could feel Rose stirring beside him. He seized on the change of subject. “I'm good at teleports, remember? After the Angel – after what it did, I ran, but I could tell that I was going to have to blink before I reached the TARDIS, and it'd have me. So I set up my sonic screwdriver so it'd teleport along with me wherever I went, and I activated the screwdriver and blinked at the same time. It was really just a stroke of luck that we ended up in the ocean. I kept my eyes on it and it sank like a stone. I put my head underwater and went on watching it sink for as long as I could. I don't know if Weeping Angels in their natural state can breathe underwater or even swim. Suppose I'll have to change the lock on the TARDIS, just to be safe.”

“So you led the Weeping Angel away from the TARDIS,” said Rose, her voice still fogged with sleep, “and trusted that Jack would pilot her and come to your rescue.”

“Well, er…” The Doctor hadn't even thought about that when he'd done it. He'd just assumed. Of course he could rely on Jack. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

He saw Rose give Jack a pointed look through the window. There was a pained sort of hope on the man's face. It hit the Doctor, then, a crushing weight on his chest: Jack really wasn't sure if the Doctor trusted him. He'd just assumed that Jack knew. Perhaps he had known, once. But the Doctor had shattered that when he'd kept the truth from him.

A part of him wanted to rush to reassure Jack, to tell him that it was the same as it had always been. But that wasn't quite true, and even if it were, with Jack feelings were best expressed through action. Since the Doctor couldn't reach Jack through all the space between them, he did the next best thing.

“You were killed, Jack. On the Game Station. That's where it all started. When I heard the Dalek fire, I – it was the beginning of the end. No matter what happened, from then on, it wouldn't be the same. Because you had died for me. And I thought – no, I _knew_ – that I would be next. I would follow in your steps, give my life to save the universe.”

He wanted very badly to skip this bit. It had nothing to do with Jack's immortality, or Rose's newfound rapport with the TARDIS. They didn't need to know. But if he wanted to prove to them – to himself – that he trusted them, then he would have to say it.

“I couldn't do what you did, Jack. I was a coward. I didn't set off the delta wave.”

“So I died for nothing,” said Jack, voice flat.

The Doctor winced. “Not nothing. I would have died, permanently, if you hadn't stood in the way of the Daleks for as long as you did. But you didn't – I didn't – I wasn't as strong as you were. It would have been the wrong choice, if not for Rose.”

He could feel Rose tense beside him. If she hadn't been fully awake before, she was now. “What did I do?”

“You looked into the heart of the TARDIS. Like Margaret. And the heart of the TARDIS looked into you. And you became – no, you _created_ the Bad Wolf.”

“I didn't do that! Bad Wolf was following us.”

“Like footprints follow you as you walk along the beach.” Both Rose and Jack still looked disbelieving, so he went on, “The TARDIS is enormously powerful. She's linked to the Time Vortex itself. She could do almost anything if she wanted – but she doesn't want. That's not in her nature. But put her together with someone who _does_ want, so very much, and they create the Bad Wolf. A being with desires, and passions, and loves, who can rearrange the universe to suit. The Bad Wolf wanted the Daleks gone, and they were. The Bad Wolf wanted Jack to not be dead, to _never_ be dead, and he was.”

“I did that? What's happened to Jack – that's my fault?”

“No!” said the Doctor and Jack at once. The Doctor looked up at him for a moment, then back to Rose. “No, Rose. That was the Bad Wolf. Part you, part the TARDIS, but mostly something you created, together. There's no way you could have known what she would do when you made her. You didn't consciously mean to create her in the first place.”

“It's still hard to imagine that I could make something like that at all,” said Rose.

“I believe it,” said Jack. “You would've done anything, if you thought it could help us. And you did. We made it through, and the Time War is finally over. Maybe this isn't what you meant to happen, but it would have been worse if you'd stayed in that chippie with your mum.”

“How can you say that? If I'd done it differently – if I hadn't done this to you – the Doctor can't even be in the same room with you anymore!”

“I can,” the Doctor said. “Jack, come over here. I kept it up for this long. I can block it out, I promise.”

Jack shook his head, lips pressed into a line. “And wait for the next time you get hurt and can't block me out anymore? What happens then? Maybe the seizures get so bad they kill you, next time. You can't just block it out until it goes away.” The corner of his mouth twisted cruelly. “Because it doesn't look like it'll go away. Ever.”

“Don't,” the Doctor said, before he could stop himself. “Whatever you're thinking, don't. Leaving is _not_ an option.”

“Well, you haven't acted like it, have you?” Jack growled. “The Weeping Angel was about to kill me, and I thought I'd never see you again, and you just let me think – ”

“That's not what – I didn't mean for that to – ”

“Oh yeah? Then what did you mean? Because it seems to me like – ”

“I almost left you, Jack!” the Doctor bellowed. “I was dying, and Rose was unconscious on the floor, and I could feel you burning with a fire I could never put out, not ever, and it felt like _poison_ , and I was scared! Do you know what I could do with an impossible thing like you, Jack? I could replace the Eye of Harmony with you. I could put you in an infinite millisecond loop and power the TARDIS forever. With a fixed point in time and space at my command, I could create the Bad Wolf and worse. I was terrified, and I very nearly closed the TARDIS doors and piloted a course to anywhere, anywhen, as long as it was away from you.”

“So you felt you couldn't tell him, because you didn't want to push him away, like you almost did,” said Rose. “And because you didn't want to remember what you could do to him, if you let yourself.”

“I'm sorry, Jack. I'm so sorry. If you do want to leave, I'll understand. It might be better. I'm not sure I trust myself with you, the way you are now.”

“There's no way to undo it? To make him mortal again?”

“Not without creating a being even greater and more terrible than the Bad Wolf. I can't do that. It might be more than the universe can take.”

“Jack?” Rose rolled onto her back so she was facing the window in the ceiling.

“You wouldn't do that to me, you know,” Jack said.

“What?” the Doctor said.

“You wouldn't use me like that. To power the TARDIS, or remake the universe, or whatever it is you could do. Maybe if it were a crystal or a tree or a jammie dodger that was a fixed point, you'd be tempted – and even then, I'm not so sure you'd give in. But this much I'm sure of: you wouldn't do that to me.”

“That's more credit than I deserve.”

“It's not about what you deserve. I don't deserve to be trapped into being a fixed point, if that's what I am now. You don't deserve to be in pain whenever I come close to you. Maybe you don't deserve our trust. But that's the way things are.”

“You're acting like nothing's going to change,” said Rose. “But I think it will. If I understand what the Doctor says about what it's like being near you, it's like when you step outside and there's snow everywhere, and the light's so bright it makes your head hurt. But if you stand outside long enough, your eyes get used to it, and after a while you can't even remember how you could have thought it was so bad.”

It was there, again: a ray of hope illuminating Jack's face, as if through a shuttered window. Well, there was nothing for it now. If both Jack and Rose could see a way, then he would follow. It was always the humans who led him, in the end.

Rose's words set off a chain reaction of ideas in the Doctor's mind. He'd have to test some of them out, later, but for now, there were at least a few that it wouldn't hurt to try. And, he decided with a sudden ferocity, he wasn't going to let Jack's immortality get in the way. When he'd realized what he'd almost done to Jack at the Game Station, he'd chosen to ignore what Jack had become, to push it away. But he was going to do more than that. He was going to defy the order of the universe and his own nature as a Time Lord so they could be together. The three of them, as it ought to be, with the TARDIS woven through and binding them.

“I've gone about this the wrong way,” the Doctor said slowly. “I've taken down my mental shields all at once. But I can take them down bit by bit instead as I get more used to you, Jack. I won't be able to do it when you've just resurrected – at the Game Station I could feel you from a floor up. That's too much to block. But otherwise, yes. I can get used to it. And I want to.” He sat up, so he could bring himself that much closer to the window in the ceiling. “Can you forgive me?”

“Do you promise not to do this again? Hiding the truth from us?”

Anything to keep him, even if holding to his promise proved difficult in the future (as he had no doubt it would). “I promise.”

Jack let out a slow breath, eyes closed. Then he opened his eyes and gazed into the Doctor's. “OK, then. I forgive you.” But there was something fragile there, too, and the Doctor felt only more certain that he had to keep it from breaking again.

“Me too,” said Rose.

“Good,” he said, relaxing into a smile. “That's – good. And thank you both, for rescuing me.”

He was pleased to see that neither of them protested that it was Sarge who had done the rescuing. Though she had been brilliant. Speaking of which – “And Sarge? Where is she? There's people still missing, and on her watch. She must be half-mad with wanting to find them. What do you say we go on another rescue mission?”

Rose sat up. “Sarge said there was a young girl who went missing before me. We ought to find her first.”

The Doctor nodded. “First the Stormgarden to get DNA samples, then the girl.”

“Can I help fly the TARDIS?” Jack asked, almost shyly.

“'Course you can,” the Doctor said. “Allons-y!”

* * *

Jack hesitated on the threshold of the console room. A part of him still feared that he'd send the Doctor into fresh agony if they were in a room together. He couldn't bear to see that again.

Then the Doctor caught his eye and grinned, that goofy lopsided grin that spread lazily over his face like syrup on a pastry. It was so different from the quicksilver grin of his previous Doctor, that came and went before there was time to drink in their dazzling light. But it was just as irresistible, and Jack was drawn toward him before he could even think of stopping himself.

As soon as he was near enough, the Doctor took his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss. It was fierce and hot, claiming Jack's mouth with insistent strokes of his tongue, and Jack felt so thoroughly _his_ that his fears of having to leave were, for the moment at least, banished.

“Are we good to go, Captain?” That goofy grin was back, and Jack's head swam with the urge to snog him again.

Instead, Jack saluted. “Yes, sir!” He noticed Sarge entering the console room, and for her benefit he said, “Destination?”

“The Stormgarden, right after we left. We need DNA samples from the people the Angels took. We feed the DNA into my timey-wimey detector, and we'll be able to find them anywhere, anywhen.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Timey-wimey detector?”

“Don't get him started,” said Rose. “He made it out of bits and bobs while I was in the shower, and he kept trying to show me how clever he was, waving it in front of the shower door and jabbering on about – ”

They all heard Sarge cough significantly, exchanged a guilty look, and got back to business. Rose stood ready with the mallet, and the Doctor said, “The Stormgarden, 2361, seven o'clock in the evening.”

In some ways, it was the same as every other time he'd co-piloted the TARDIS with the Doctor. He fulfilled the same functions: fine-tuning the target coordinates, steering clear of eddies in the Vortex, and stabilizing the 10-D vectors.

But beneath it all, there was a sense from the TARDIS which at first he didn't understand, until he realized it was the Doctor as seen from her point of view. He was a universe all his own – the TARDIS could explore him forever and never cease to find wonders – yet she understood his internal symmetries, his trajectories through Time, his orbit, with her at the center. It was dizzying to see the Doctor this way – like a sun loves her planet, Jack thought – but if he let that vision float across his mind like water over oil, he always knew where to be and which controls to activate. It was, in a strange way, as close he'd ever felt to the Doctor.

The TARDIS' materialization ended with a dull thud, and Jack's trance dissipated.

“Would you like us to come with you to get the samples?” the Doctor asked Sarge.

“No need,” she said. “I'd like to check in with my officers and talk to the girl's father myself. He reported her missing to me first, and he'll want to hear that I've got a lead on where she is.” She paused. “Even if he won't believe me if I say that lead is a time machine.”

“Go on then,” the Doctor said. “We'll be right here.”

Sarge left.

“So,” said Jack, leaning back against the console. “How is it?”

“How's what?” said the Doctor.

“Being in the same room with me.”

“Fine.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. A little bit sandpapery, I suppose, but nothing I can't muddle through.”

“And when we kissed?”

“More sandpaper. But I don't think there was any lack of enthusiasm for all that.”

Jack let himself relax a little. After all, he'd snog the Doctor and Rose even if they felt like sandpaper. “No. There wasn't.”

“See?” said Rose. She reached out and took one of each of their hands in hers. “It'll work out.” She pulled them toward her, and they leaned their heads against hers for a while, just sharing breath.

There was a polite cough from somewhere near the doorway, and the three of them sprang apart, a flush rising on Rose and the Doctor's faces. Jack just winked at Sarge and took up position at the console. The Doctor took samples from Sarge – DNA data chips for the officers, a few strands of dark hair for the girl – and fed them into a contraption he'd wired into the mess of circuitry beneath the console.

“Ready to fly again?” said the Doctor, and Jack could see in his eyes that whatever had happened during the last flight, the Doctor had felt it too. There was a sort of wonder, there, and it occurred to Jack that the Doctor may not have felt anything like this since his people died, sealed away in ash behind a lock that couldn't be breached.

“Ready.”

This time, Jack could feel Rose helping at the console, a sensation like the brush of golden fur against his palm. She was part of the orbit, too, three celestial bodies and the TARDIS. When they landed, the Doctor was first to the door. He peeked his head out, looked around, and took in a big sniff of the air. He stepped back in. “Abandoned diamond mine, late 23rd century. Better bring some torches and oxygen masks. There could be bad air trapped down here.”

The Doctor opened a supply closet and somehow found headlamps and oxygen masks amid a chaos of tools and knick-knacks from a dozen galaxies. Sarge insisted that they each bring a spare oxygen mask, too, just in case.

The tunnel in the mine they'd landed in was just wide enough that they didn't run facefirst into a wall when they exited the TARDIS. The air was dank and stale, and the sound of their footsteps echoed weirdly. The ceiling was low enough that the spiky tips of the Doctor's hair brushed against it. Jack put on his oxygen mask, and tried not to think about what would happen if the tunnel caved in. Even immortality wouldn't do him any good if he were trapped under a big enough pile of rubble.

The TARDIS was in the middle of a tunnel. They could go left or right. “Just how precise is your, ah, timey-wimey detector?” asked Jack. “Do we know which way she is?”

“Well, er, not as such, no.”

“Then we split up,” said Jack, looking to the Doctor for confirmation. “She doesn't have an oxygen mask, and if she's caught in a pocket of bad air she'll need our help as quickly as possible. Sarge and I go right, you and Rose go left. With my wrist strap and Rose's mobile, we'll be able to keep in touch.”

The Doctor nodded, and they parted ways.

The tunnel was nearly featureless, the harsh glare of his headlamp revealing only dark stone. Every so often, Jack would look back over his shoulder at Sarge to make sure she was all right. She was grim-faced, clearly in no mood to chat, even if only to make their journey lighter. Jack might have started talking and telling stories for the sake of his own nerves, but she might take it as a sign of distraction or flippancy, so he kept quiet. It wasn't pleasant. When he didn't talk, he had time to wonder how long it would take the Doctor to adjust to him, whether they could ever recapture what the three of them had had together, back when the Doctor was a woman in a leather jacket and Jack's life had an end.

After a time, the tunnel began to slope downward. He could almost swear he heard faint sounds behind the walls, like claws scuttling over stone. Then he heard a sound he knew was real – a distant gasp from the tunnel ahead. It was the sound of someone panting desperately for air.

Jack and Sarge wasted no time. They ran down the tunnel and followed the sound. At the end of the tunnel was a deep hole in the ground, perhaps the beginning of a new mine shaft that was abandoned along with everything else. There was a ten year old girl curled in a fetal ball at the bottom, her chest heaving. She shut her eyes against the light of their headlamps, blindingly bright after however long she'd spent down there. It couldn't have been long – probably at the same time they'd landed, in fact – or she'd have been dead already.

“Hang in there,” said Jack. “We're here to rescue you.” When it looked like she might try to speak, he added, “Don't waste your breath.”

Quietly, he asked Sarge, “Do you think you can get her back out of there without ropes?” They should have brought ropes, damn it. Why hadn't it occurred to him? “Because I don't know how.”

Sarge swept her light around the aborted mine shaft. “The walls aren't vertical. They're sloped. I can haul her up without ropes.”

“Can I help?”

She shook her head. “You're not trained in rescue missions, I can tell. You're more the covert ops type. You'd only get in the way.” And before Jack could protest, she jumped into the hole.

Sarge knew how to take a fall. She got up with barely a pause and put her spare oxygen mask over the girl's nose and mouth. The awful ragged gasps quieted, though her chest still rose and fell like a bellows as she took in gulps of good air. Sarge took her pulse, then put the girl over her shoulder, leaving her hands free to climb back out of the hole.

Jack forced himself to look away and place a call to Rose's mobile. “Rose? How are you?”

“Haven't found the girl yet.”

“We have. Sarge is getting her now. I think she's going to make it fine, but you should head in our direction just in case. The girl was breathing bad air. Sarge got an oxygen mask on her, but we should get her to the TARDIS as quick as we can.”

“All right. We're on our way. Tell Sarge she's done a great job.”

Jack cut the call and looked down at Sarge. She climbed with single-minded determination, though sweat poured freely all over her body and her muscles trembled and twitched with exertion. More than once, she nearly lost her grip on a hand- or foothold. Once she had her breath back, the girl began to whimper with fear.

“Hey,” said Jack, leaning out so the girl could hear him. “Hey, kid, the sergeant's got you. You'll be safe. You hear me?”

Once Sarge came within reach, Jack lifted the girl from Sarge's shoulder, relieving her of the burden. Immediately, the girl tucked her head against Jack's chest, trembling.

“You all right there?” he said. No response. “My name's Jack. The woman who saved you is Sarge. What's your name?”

In a voice so small Jack could barely hear, she said, “Mudiwa.”

“We're going to take you back to your father, Mudiwa,” said Jack. “Come on.” He took her by the hand and led her back along the tunnel, murmuring quiet encouragements.

That sound he'd thought he heard in the walls was back. “Do you hear that?” he asked Sarge.

She nodded.

“Might be the first sign of a cave-in,” Jack said grimly. He picked Mudiwa up. “Run!”

They ran, Mudiwa's hands fisted tightly in Jack's shirt. Up ahead of them, a hole – or, no, a doorway – was opening in the side of the tunnel. Jack could see figures moving around in the darkness beyond. He passed Mudiwa over to Sarge, and took out the laser pistol from its holster at the small of his back. Not once did he stop moving in the direction of the TARDIS.

“Go,” Jack said tightly, not taking his eyes away from the door. Sarge ran. A moment later, two-legged reptiles in metal masks boiled out of the doorway into the tunnel, hissing in rage. Jack recognized them from textbooks: _Homo reptilia_ , famous for their long history of bloody conflict with humans. Of course, by the time these facts had coalesced in Jack's brain, he'd already started firing.

The reptilians' armor was high-tech for the 23rd century, but Jack's laser pistol was from the 51st. The first rank fell, and Jack bolted down the tunnel toward the TARDIS, sending back rounds of cover fire as he went. He was forced to hit the ground, though, when the second rank got over the surprise of his first attack and started firing back at him.

Energy bolts crackled and ricocheted around the tunnel. Jack rose to a crouch and fired back, though he had to squint to see through the flying white energy. A bolt grazed his shoulder, sending agony all up and down his arm, but he never stopped shooting. The reptilians were falling, falling – how many were left? – the air rippled with weapons fire and high hissing screams, and then his chest was torn apart in a blaze of white flame.

* * *

Immortal or not, Rose could tell already that the horror of seeing Jack dead would never fade. Even though she'd felt it through the TARDIS, had known it beyond any doubt, it was hard to believe it now, holding his lifeless hand between hers.

The Doctor and Rose had had to haul his body back to the TARDIS, one burnt human corpse among many more reptilian ones, their armor blackened and twisted by laser fire. Well, the Doctor had done most of the hauling, really. Rose had been so overcome at the sight that she'd fallen to her knees, and she hadn't been much more useful than that on the way back. He was covered by a sheet, now, except for his face, so she wouldn't have to see the charred ruin where his heart should have been.

Rose heard a gasp, and Jack's hand tightened between hers. His eyes were open and staring, though not really seeing, as he took in great lungfuls of air. It was as if the life had been shoved back into his body with painful force. Finally, Jack's eyes focused on her.

“Rose,” he breathed. The pulse in his wrist felt shockingly strong, after having been so still. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”

She pulled back the sheet, saw that his chest was whole and unmarked, and let out a shaky breath. Rose boggled a little. She had done this. Well, not exactly her, but something she'd created on purpose had done this. It was hard to accept, even now.

“It was awful,” Rose admitted, “but you can't protect me from it forever.” She pressed a hand to his chest. It was solid, firm, with a steady heartbeat. “If you're going to stay, and you will, then this might happen again. I'd rather I was at least a bit prepared for it.”

“Where's the girl? And the Doctor and Sarge?”

“Mudiwa's asleep. Sarge made her a cup of tea and tucked her in while the Doctor and I went for you. They both just left to fetch one of the security people.” Rose smiled at him. “I'm so glad you're back.” She leaned over and kissed him, slow and sweet. “You know the Doctor would be here, if he could. But you heard what he said. It's still too much for him, when you've just come back.”

“I know,” Jack said, though Rose could see he still longed for the Doctor to be here, at the moment when he felt so vulnerable. “Did he explain what happened in the tunnel?”

“He said they were a splinter group of Silurians. They hate humans, because they evolved first and we took over the planet, so now they have to live underground. They attack any human who comes near one of their homes. Probably why the diamond mine was abandoned in the first place, he says.”

“As if tainted air and the risk of cave-ins weren't enough,” Jack said. He looked distant and worried.

“He's not angry, you know. He hates guns, but you did what you had to. They would've killed Sarge and Mudiwa. He knows that. He's just… sad. I think he's met Silurians before. He wishes it could have been different.”

“Thanks for that.” He seemed less worried, now, but still weary. “Any chance we can take this somewhere more comfortable?”

“All right,” she said. “Let's go.” Rose offered a hand. Jack took it and rolled out of bed. They walked through the first door they encountered in the corridor, which led to what looked like a sitting room in an old Tudor manor house. There was a chandelier, a full-length mirror in an ornate wooden frame, and a fireplace surrounded by armchairs and a sofa upholstered in gold chenille. A low fire crackled in the fireplace, filling the room with the smell of woodsmoke.

Rose paused in the doorway, resting her hands on its frame. “Thanks, girl. Any chance we can have the same arrangement with the mirror as before?”

In answer, the mirror flickered and changed to a view of the console room. Jack shifted the sofa so it angled toward the mirror. Rose sat beside him and took his hand. After a minute, they heard the TARDIS doors open. The Doctor and Sarge came in with a woman in a uniform similar to Sarge's. They were all more or less damp, but nothing seemed to have gone wrong. Sarge had a reassuring hand on the woman's shoulder as she looked around the TARDIS, wide-eyed, and leaned in to speak to her, too quietly for Rose to hear.

The Doctor spotted them on the screen and waved. “This one was lucky! Landed on a beach near Durban.”

“In winter, during a rainstorm,” Sarge added, breaking away from her conversation for a moment.

“Want to come with us for the next pickup?” the Doctor asked.

“You can be near me, now?” Jack said hopefully.

The Doctor shook his head. “Sorry. Hasn't faded yet. You're still – too bright. But we could split up, like we did in the mine.”

“Shouldn't someone stay in case Mudiwa wakes up?” said Jack.

“Sarge shouldn't stay, she's the expert at rescuing people,” said Rose. “The officer you just picked up shouldn't be alone in here, she's new to the TARDIS. Jack's just come back from the dead, and I don't care what he says, he shouldn't be alone at all. So I stay behind or you do.”

The Doctor hesitated, then said, “You two can go. I'll stay in the TARDIS with Mudiwa. And Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“What you did, for Sarge – ”

“It was my choice. It's my life to give, and it doesn't run out no matter how many times I give it. It was an honor to give my life for Sarge.”

Behind the Doctor, Rose saw Sarge go still as she heard Jack's words. Meanwhile, her officer looked even more confused.

“No, that's not – what I was going to say – what you did, it was good. Sarge is – I would've done the same.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Over the Doctor's shoulder, Sarge smiled.

* * *

After that, there were two more officers from Sarge's unit to rescue. The next one was stuck up to his waist in mud in the middle of a bog, and they all came back covered in mud and mosquito bites. As the only one in any state to be seen in public, the Doctor went out himself to fetch the last victim of the Weeping Angel, who fortunately had been stranded in no place more exotic or dangerous than a rail station in Bloemfontein. Then it was back to the Stormgarden, where everyone could go back to the time and place they belonged.

A freshly-showered Sarge came to the console room with her officers and Mudiwa in tow. Rose, now clean herself and wrapped in a dressing gown, was waiting by the console with the Doctor.

“Did you get to say goodbye to Jack?” Rose asked Sarge.

She nodded. “Of course.”

Rose wondered what they'd said to each other. Jack had saved Sarge's life, and even though Jack was immortal now, Sarge had as good as saved his. After all, if she hadn't been there, what would have happened when Jack came back from death, alone and heartbroken in a darkness full of monsters?

“If you ever need anything, call me,” said Rose. She recited the number of her superphone, and Sarge keyed it into her comm unit.

“If I call, it won't be for a joyride.” Sarge settled her hands on Mudiwa's shoulders, and the girl relaxed a little into the touch. “Bringing a girl back to her father is all the excitement I've ever needed.”

The Doctor beamed at her. “Best of luck to you, Sarge.”

When they all filed out, the TARDIS felt strangely empty. Not because they'd left, but because Jack wasn't in the console room with them.

Rose cleared her throat. “Can you and Jack…?”

The Doctor shook his head.

“Do you know how long until you can?”

“Based on how long it took after his last death, no more than twelve hours. Don't know any more than that.”

“Jack needs me more than you do right now,” said Rose. “But we found a sitting room with a mirror in it. Care to join us?”

The Doctor gave her a penetrating look, dark and a little sad. Rose folded her arms. “Just because you're not with him doesn't mean you're not _with him_. That was the point of him staying. Stop punishing yourself, Doctor. You can still have him. He's just a bit further away than you're used to, for now.”

“I'll see you in a bit, then.” The Doctor's mouth turned up at the corners, and he pulled her into a kiss. “Pass that on for me.”

“I will.”

Rose let the TARDIS guide her to where Jack was, the sensation of him still burning like a sore within her, but loved all the same. He was in the sitting room, on one side of the sofa, waiting.

She kissed him, using the same pressure and tilt of the head the Doctor had used to kiss her. “That's from Himself,” said Rose, not pulling away, their foreheads pressed together. “Special delivery.”

Jack smiled a little against her face. “Will he be joining us?”

“Any moment.”

The Doctor appeared in the mirror, and they pulled their faces apart to look. He was sitting in an overstuffed armchair in the library, a book of poetry in one hand. “Thought I might read to you a bit. Have either of you read John Donne?”

They both shook their heads.

“Go ahead,” said Jack. “With that voice, you can read me anything.”

Rose twined her arm through Jack's and listened. He was right. For all the Doctor talked, it wasn't often enough that he put thought into shaping his words, the way he did when he read poetry. This new voice was so different from their first Doctor's, but the sound of it still filled her with peace and warmth.

 _“…Dull sublunary lovers' love  
– Whose soul is sense – cannot admit  
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove  
The thing that elemented it._

 _But we by a love so much refined,  
That ourselves know now what it is,  
Inter-assured of the mind,  
Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss._

 _Our two souls, therefore – ”_

The Doctor paused, looked up at them, and smiled with what seemed to be his whole body, the warmth of it lighting his mouth and cheeks and eyes and hands.

 _“Our three souls, therefore, which are one,  
Though I must go, endure not yet  
A breach, but an expansion,  
Like gold to aery thinness beat.”_

And Rose, remembering the fine golden thread she'd seen in the TARDIS and Jack, and in herself and the Doctor, all woven together, smiled back.


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This epilogue contains explicit sex and consensual D/s. If you'd rather not read that, the story stands perfectly well on its own without the epilogue.
> 
> The excerpt from Pablo Neruda's "Juegas todos los días" is my translation.

Rose and Jack were getting increasingly distracted, the Doctor thought, as the words of the poem rolled off his tongue. To be fair, he'd encouraged them. The John Donne poem had a metaphor to compasses, and the Doctor had rather enjoyed the way Jack's eyes darkened and Rose's cheeks pinked when he'd read the verses about how erect and firm the legs of the compasses were. After that, there was nothing for it but to read them Pablo Neruda, because his poems were beautiful and sensual and painfully true.

The Spanish purred through his mouth in long rolling Rs and consonants made soft by a deliberate gentleness in his lips and tongue. He imagined the words as they would fall on Rose's ears as she lapped at the hollow of Jack's throat, his voice transformed and given meaning by the TARDIS.

" _How you must have suffered to become accustomed to me,  
to my solitary and savage soul, to my name that all people shun.  
So many times we have seen the bright star burn, kissing our eyes,  
and the twilight unwind itself in twirling fans above our heads._"

Rose was intent on kissing all along the shell of Jack's ear, but Jack was facing the mirror where the Doctor's image was projected, eyes hooded. The Doctor shimmied out of his suit jacket, watching Jack watch. He continued from the poetry book:

" _My words rained over you, caressing you.  
A long time I have loved your body, of sun-drenched mother-of-pearl.  
I go so far as to think you the keeper of the universe.  
From the mountains I will bring you joyous flowers, bluebells,  
dark hazels, and wild baskets of kisses._"

The Doctor loosened his tie, slowly, his fingers curled around the Windsor knot. He leaned forward, so close that his breath fogged the mirror transmitting his image. He hoped the TARDIS made sure they could see it, a translucent silver-white patch obscuring the glass in front of his mouth. She must have done, because now even Rose had turned her head to watch the mirror, her pupils blown to nearly fill the warm brown of her iris.

" _I want to do with you  
What spring does with the cherry trees._"

Jack leaned back against the sofa and shivered. "Oh yes, _please_."

The Doctor closed the book of poetry and set it aside. "Good. Rose, will you do as I say? You can use the safe word at any time."

Rose's thumb inscribed slow circles on Jack's hip. "Yeah," she said, a little breathless.

The Doctor was glad beyond telling that they'd both said yes. He needed to show Jack that he still had the Doctor: kept at arms's length, but kept all the same. He let his tie hang loose and undid the top button of his shirt. "Take off his shoes, then let him take off yours. Take as much or as little time as you want."

Rose slid off the sofa and knelt in front of Jack, sliding the soft slippers from his feet. Then she got back on the sofa and put her feet over his legs. He tossed her shoes and socks aside, and she wiggled her feet in his lap. Jack made a low, appreciative sound.

"I'd like to see him, Rose." He touched his hand to his own chest, indicating the place where Jack had been shot, leaving nothing but char where his heart had been. "Show me."

Rose stayed at Jack's side so the Doctor had a full view as she unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, pressing a kiss to each new patch of skin revealed. The Doctor could get drunk on this: the knowledge that no matter what happened, Jack would return to him unbroken.

"Tell me what he tastes like," the Doctor said as Rose pulled away from kissing Jack's navel.

"Warm," she said. "Like salt, and that vanilla musk smell in his sweat that makes you feel a bit dizzy."

"Vanilla-scented pheromones. Bit of false advertising there, eh, Captain?" The Doctor didn't expect an answer; Jack was falling too deep into that place of surrender, giving himself over entirely to the Doctor's words and Rose's caresses. "Take off his trousers, Rose."

Jack lifted his hips so Rose could pull the trousers down. The Doctor reached toward the mirror and traced the curve of Jack's erection with his thumbnail. His mouth ached with the urge to stretch itself around him, to coax orgasm from him in subtle, deliberate movements, like a sculptor coaxing beauty from stone. But he had Rose to do that for him, and he trusted her to express through her touch everything the Doctor needed to say.

"Sit across his lap, sideways, and touch yourself. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Jack?"

Jack made an appreciative noise, and Rose tugged off her trousers and settled into his lap with more wriggling than strictly necessary. She suckled at his earlobe and reached between her legs, grinding herself against the heel of her hand. The little sounds she made were maddening, and the smell of her arousal must be an even greater torment to Jack. He rolled his hips, helplessly, but Rose did nothing to relieve him. She only rubbed herself harder, pressing a gentle bite into Jack's neck.

"Jack, look at me."

His head was thrown back against the back of the sofa, eyes closed and mouth slack. If Rose didn't let up a bit, he wouldn't be able to respond properly.

"Rose, please stop. Jack, look at me."

That gave Jack room to breathe. He lifted his head. The Doctor could already see bruises beginning to blossom on his neck from Rose's attentions. More than anything, he wanted to claim Jack, too. The Doctor couldn't mark him with his fingernails or his teeth, but there were other ways.

"I'm going to tell Rose to pleasure you with her mouth, on one condition. You must keep your eyes on my face. If you close them or look away for even a moment, I'll tell her to stop. Understood?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Good. Rose?"

Rose kissed Jack on the cheek, then licked her way down his chest and stomach. She settled on her stomach on the sofa beside Jack, propped up on her elbows so she could lean her head over his lap.

"Go ahead," the Doctor said. "You can touch yourself, if you like."

She made an enthusiastic noise that was nearly a growl, pressed her right hand between her legs, and took the shaft of Jack's cock in her left. The Doctor felt a warm glow fill his chest as she began to lick, humming with pleasure at the thrill of giving a blowjob. She had been so self-conscious, at the beginning of their relationship, as if oral sex were a trick she was expected to perform on cue, rather than an experience she could enjoy as much as the person receiving it. Now she let all of her vibrancy and playfulness run free, alternating between lapping delicately at the head of his cock and sucking at his balls.

But even with the show Rose was putting on, it was hard for the Doctor to tear his gaze away from Jack's. He had latched onto the Doctor like a lifeline, eyes never straying from his face. His arm, propped along the edge of the sofa, reached toward the mirror, palm turned upward as if in offering, or maybe supplication. The Doctor would have liked nothing more than to step through the mirror and kiss that upturned palm. Instead, he held Jack's gaze, murmuring, "Good lad, good. I'm right here. Just a little longer."

Rose's hand rubbed a steady rhythm along Jack's shaft while her tongue licked a stripe along the underside. She hummed in pleasure, then gave a good long suck, taking Jack halfway down at once. His eyelids fluttered, but he fought the urge to close his eyes.

"Yes, that's it," the Doctor said. "Trust us, Jack. You can let go. I'm here, can't you see? Right here, where I ought to be. You can let go. It'll be all right."

Rose's head moved between Jack's legs, but still he held back. The Doctor murmured fragments of words, began to worry a little, but it was Rose who found the way. She curled her fingers against her clit, once, twice, and came, crying out with Jack's cock still in her mouth. That sent him spiraling down, down, reaching with one hand to caress the side of Rose's face, the other reaching still toward the mirror.

After a few moments, Rose sat up and looked down at the Doctor's lap. "Did you want to, er, finish? Afraid I'm not up to much, but I can watch if you want."

The Doctor's own erection hadn't even registered. Perhaps it was because he wasn't used to this body, but he didn't think so. It had never been about his own completion, this spun-glass creation the three of them had made. Not that he objected to having an orgasm or three along the way, but it was about them. It always had been.

"Not now," the Doctor replied. "Maybe later."

"I miss you," Jack said. His eyes were half-closed, but his hand curled and uncurled, grasping at something that wasn't there.

The Doctor leaned forward, his forehead against the mirror. He stayed there, quiet and still, until his breath made foggy halos around the faces of the humans he loved.


End file.
